Drops of Honey
by lunawritings
Summary: Emilia Weasley is the seventh sibling and the first Slytherin in her family. Battling for a place in a world haunted by Lord Voldemort, she must choose whether it really is her alone she will fight for. Extreme slow-burn. Intertwining books & movies.
1. Weasley

**Drops of Honey**

 _I have told lies and made a fool of myself,_  
 _and the very air tastes like wine._  
 _I have been frightened half out of my foolish wits,_  
 _but I have somehow earned this joy;_  
 _I have been waiting for it for so long_

– Shirley Jackson.

* * *

 **One: Weasley**

* * *

 _Slytherin Weasleys were far and few. Every generation before Emelia had several in different houses. Though, being the only Slytherin of eight Gryffindors made life particularly difficult._

 _Through the years she'd been at Hogwarts, Emelia Weasley had discovered a contemporary fire burning inside of herself – she did not stand up for her surname, but repelled it. Despite the torment during her first year, the sorting hat inspired her to be as relentless as Salazar Slytherin and prove her place in the pureblood community._

 _"A female Weasley?" it murmured conversely into her mind. "Except you are different, oh, different, yes. Such cunning… and a fate, a fate so traitorous. Emilia, what a soul. I'm almost jealous."_

 _Wanting to rip the bastard-thing off her head, she dug her fingernails into the chair and listened to his humming. The ratty thing had to be insane, exclaiming to find lots inside of her head; fountains of passion, devotion, an endless love for knowledge and power. Apparently, she bore a sinister resemblance to Ignatious Prewitt, a great uncle of herself, whose temperamental attitude and estranged marriage to Lucretia Black led to his banishment._

 _"Oh of course," the hat continued. "Pureblood fire. You're burning, just as Ignatius Prewitt did. Also related to Cedrella Black, aren't you? You crave challenges as they did – And a challenge I shall give you."_

 _Her brother's confused stares and empty cheers went ignored by Emelia. She did not note the shock, but the names of family-members long dead. Leaping into a space beside Sybil Carrow_ _, she welcomed a new world of pureblood students who were as terrified, but excited as her._

 _For the rest of the year, Emilia watched her twin become best friends with the boy who lived. She was battling painful teasing and risked her life playing the harp for a sleeping three-headed dog whilst her brother went to save the day._ _Professor Querrell turned out to be Lord Voldemort in hiding. She didn't find that out either, she had been caught by Snape and was sent to detention._

 _The detention was first of many. Unpleasant as they were, she couldn't control her frustration with the Slytherins. In her second year, Emilia chose pranks instead of violence against the onslaught of bullying. Fred and George were more than useful in helping embarrass the drooling minions of Draco Malfoy._

 _Then Ron began asking questions. Questions about the heir to Slytherin and the Chamber of Secrets. Unable to come up with answers, he accused her of siding with the house._

 _"I know where my loyalties lie Ron!" Emilia had screamed in the deserted hallway. Her brother had rounded on her, jabbing an accusing finger. "Really?" he snorted, "to me you're sounding more and more like a pig-arsed Slytherin every day."_

 _"What's wrong with that?" Emilia hissed._

 _Then they rounded a corner, discovering the blood-written note. Ginny had been taken and the agony of losing her little sister was something she never wanted to feel again. She'd insisted on helping her brother, but Ron had left to find Ginny without her._

 _When exams came around after that and Emilia discovered she was beginning to differ quite excessively from her family. Ron had failed most of his tests whilst Fred and George, who had begun OWLs, had sent Molly on a meltdown due to their grades. Emelia excelled in Astronomy, marvelling in the beauty of the natural world. It wasn't unusual for her to be up in the astronomy tower._

 _During the summer before her third year, Arthur had won seven hundred galleons, and the Weasley's went on a trip to Egypt. They purchased a brand-new broom for Emelia and Ron – Nimbus Two-Thousands weren't as popular, and greatly decreased in price, but they were delicately built and sturdy. The Slytherin team mostly owned the Two-Thousand and Ones from a couple years previous. Still, Emelia was determined to make it on the team. Just as her siblings had all done._

 _Malfoy had been against it, battling their captain. The auditionees watched her overthrow fifth year, Lucian Boyle, scoring sixty points in ten minutes. By then, bullying did not hurt as much. Emelia discovered that by ignoring the insults, they became empty._

 _Near the end of her third year, she'd become ostracised completely from Ron. He never wanted her help. She'd discovered that after being hexed into staying in the castle whilst her brother went to save Sirius Black. He still hadn't told her completely what happened. After that, she'd found herself in an odd relationship with the Slytherins—they respected her a little more than before, the nicknames no longer bothered her, and she found herself snapping back with as much venom. Emilia clawed her way out of the food chain, gaining an unusual appetite for starting fights if anyone clung to her for too long. Even with her brothers, with whom she loved dearly and tried her hardest to ignore their repetitive quirks against her house._

 _But being one out of eight Weasley children to not understand Gryffindor jokes or join in on poking fun at the snakes of Hogwarts made family life difficult. With the threat of Lord Voldemort on the rise, Emilia was consistently told during the summer that family were all that mattered. They would never leave her._

 _With pitiful confusion, Emilia wondered whether there would be a time when she wasn't left, but abandoned._


	2. The Quidditch World Cup

_I shall not see the shadows,_  
 _I shall not feel the rain;_  
 _I shall not hear the nightingale_  
 _Sing on, as if in pain_

 _– Christina Rossetti_

* * *

 **Two: The Quidditch World Cup**

* * *

"A bit of a walk," complained Ron, walking behind me. He was yawning in between groans of discomfort; the chilly moonlit air nipped at our noses. I glanced over my shoulder at my twin, watching him lag behind in a groggy state.

"Maybe if you went to sleep instead of staring at the poster of the Bulgarian team, you'd feel better," I said.

"I do _not_ stare at the poster."

"Oh, right. You can't if you're snogging it."

Ginny and Hermione snorted beside me. It wasn't completely true, but ever since Ron had ordered the image, he'd had Percy jinx it so no one could pull it from the wall.

The older twins, having been whispering incessantly the entire stroll, looked behind them.

"You talking about Ron's affair with a photo?" Fred asked me.

I nodded, grinning. "He'll never get close enough to the real thing. It's a tragedy."

Walking through the trees, the dense woodland between the burrow and muggle village, should've been relaxing. The feel of soft leaves underfoot and the dirt between your toes was soothing. My mind wandered the number of people heading the Cup today. Thousands of pushing, shoving bodies trying to find enough space to cheer.

At least I wasn't the only one nervous for our sakes, though I was distracted while I glanced at my brothers—there was an odd gleam in their eye like they were planning something. "What are you up to?" I called out to them.

Fred shrugged. "Nothing," he muttered. "just a little business investment."

"Mum's just gone mental at the pair of you for those toffees," I said. Switching the confused look between them, I couldn't grasp why they enjoyed such frivolous idiocy. "You'll poison yourselves. What do you mean by investment, anyway?"

"It's none of your business, sprite. Get stuffed if you think we'll tell you."

"I'll tell Mum on the pair of you. I've just seen that letter you shoved in your pocket, _Fred_. Is this about the bet I helped you with?"

The twins exchanged a slightly unsure look then turned back to me—a twinge in their frown. "Maybe. All you have to know is that it's serious, so if your predications are wrong, you're getting a boot up your arse."

"It won't be wrong," I insisted. After years of Quidditch playing, reading and adoration for the World Cup, I was assured that what I knew had to be right. My brother's pact with each other went noticed as they shared another look. A lot of money had gone into the betting.

It was inevitable that Krum would get the snitch. Only a few years older and with the power of a dozen players, his strength would outshine the Irish seeker. Overall though, Ireland played better as a team and that would win them the game. Also, my archaic ability to study the movement of the stars led me to believe that the aries was destined to blossom in the eclipse season – which was now.

As daft as astrology seemed to be to the rest of my family, I adored staring up at the thick blanket of lights that were a constant companion in the darkness.

Taking a step back, I chewed the inside of my cheek and glowered, "I'm positive—don't threaten me or I will tell mum; don't think she'll be too happy with where this money is going."

Fred stopped walking and reached out a long lanky arm to flick my nose. I batted his arm away, moving closer to Ginny.

"Next time, we'll give Mum the ladle and she can use that on the two of you," my younger sister spat. "I found jelly slugs all in my shoes last night."

George raised an eyebrow at her bite. "I'd watch it dear sister—some of our products can be a tad nasty."

They wouldn't dare, I felt challenged instead of angry — the twins knew that if they even tried to pull a joke then the consequences wouldn't be in their favour. Noting the word products, I tried to unravel their entire plan, but could only scowl. Beside me, Ginny radiated a similar annoyance.

We came to a wooden gate, opening up into a lane which led to Ottery St. Catchpole. Few streetlamps were on as the sun was rising. There wasn't sight nor sound of a muggle which I found thankful for as they would've witnessed my family stumbling through the quiet like a herd of elephants.

The lane led to a church, its pyre rising up high into the sun streaked sky. Yellow bloomed across the horizon.

Hermione was squinting with a hand over her face.

"Keep up, lads!" Dad boomed, lacking any civility for neighbours. I grumbled after him, trying to control my huffing and puffing. My legs were freezing, my boots too thin for such chill.

"Carry me," Ginny groaned, lounging into my shoulder. I gave her a shove, telling her that i'll collapse under her weight and once I'm down, I'm not getting back up.

"Arthur!" A booming voice yelled from in front of us.

With a light thump to the ground and over another gate, the man grinned pleasantly at us. He was shorter, slightly plump, with glasses and a hat covering most of his peppered hair. He seemed the happy sort and like most wizards he was dressed in a poor imitation of muggle's clothing. "About time, son."

"Sorry, Amos." Arthur smiled, embracing him shortly. "Some of us had a bit of a sleepy start. This is Amos Diggory, everyone. He works with me at the ministry."

As we neared, a boy leapt over the fence and landed gracefully on his feet – a abnormally handsome boy. Attractive and familiar, unlike the page four models Pansy's gaped at during break times. This boy, however, had sandy blonde hair, beautiful grey-blue eyes and flushed cheeks from his climb. He was tall and broad shouldered, the sun bounced off of his locks.

"And this strapping young lad must be Cedric, am I right?"

"Yes, sir." His voice was low and I raised an eyebrow, my sister was giggling right next to me.

"You know who he is, right?" Ginny whispered. I shook my head and Hermione finally pulled her eyes off of the boy.

"He's a Hufflepuff seventh year," she said. Ginny and Hermione grinned wider. My sister began whispering animatedly - probably about our newest find. She could probably out-wit any seventh year and yet she turned to jelly if one was remotely attractive.

I watched as Mr Diggory shook Harry's hand and grew nervous when he was quick to slow his stride to meet with mine, my sister's wild eyes watching madly; Ginny probably had a network of tunnels where she eavesdropped on everything and everyone with the amount she knew. I looked to Hermione for help as he reached me, before putting on one of my infamous false smiles for him.

"Hello, sir."

"So, you're Emelia and you must be Ginny—those are your brothers?" He smiled, holding out his hand. "I've heard so much about you all, real pleasure to meet you kids."

I found that hard to believe. We were a nightmare. "All goods things, I hope."

"I never accept less," he smiled. I found myself smiling back because he looked so genuine. When the group of us were finally near the top of the hill, I could hear people explaining to Harry what was happening as we made our way out of the line of forest and into a valley adorned with greenery.

Fred and George were grumbling to one another, looking at Cedric. I realised then who the boy was.

"Oh!" I said loudly. "You're on the Hufflepuff team."

He turned and looked at me and then a smile flooded his face. It made his cheeks lift. If I were that type, I'd have swooned.

"Yeah," he said. "You're a beater, right? Your brothers are, too."

"They don't play as well as me."

He laughed, pushing a hand into his hair with an awkward nod. "Yeah. I mean Hufflepuff won against them. I can only apologise."

Fred huffed, "sure, sure. _Bathe_ in the victory. We'll out for blood this year, Diggory."

"You're never a loser until you quit trying. Hope it goes well for you but can't say Hufflepuff's aren't either."

Angelically smooth. Diggory played his words well, as he did Quidditch. Even watching him slyly belittle my brothers, I planned on telling Flint that Diggory was still on the team. Flint was exceptional at strategies and using opponents' weaknesses as our strengths.

I returned Cedric's smile.

There was a crunch. Under my boots, I trod of frosted yellow flowers. Sprouting like wheat, the long grass grew tall the further up we climbed. Flies rose from the mud, getting out of the way so I didn't accidentally murder them. We had left the village and church behind so the quietness of deafening to our ears.

The serenity of the countryside led us to a halo at the top of the hill. It was around a manky piece of clothing which made my face distort in disgust.

" _That's_ the portkey?" I grimaced. "Did you dig up Aunt Tessie's tomb – Merlin's beard."

"Aunt Theresa is still alive," Fred said.

"Are you sure?"

Harry's frown deepened in mild disgust at the sight of the aged shoe, his mouth forming a disgruntled grimace. "What is it?"

Smacking him hard on the back, George followed Fred to stand in front of it. "That is a portkey." He explained with a wry grin.

Dad always talked about these things. He was obsessed with magical transportation being disguised by muggle objects. Once he was away from several weeks trying to track down a muggle who'd found a portkey and landed in the middle of the Sahara Desert.

"Right then Fred, George, Mia," Dad said. "Ginny. Everyone."

"Time to go." Amos said hurriedly, trying to get everyone's hand on the boot. Harry was still looking at the boot, completely dumbfounded and I rolled my eyes at him. It amazed me that he could totally get the concept of flying on brooms or having a spell to tickle someone, but he could not grasp the concept of a boot being a teleportation device. Ridiculous.

"After three; one...two..."

Ron yawned, lifting hand to his mouth. Panicking, I grabbed it and slapped in on the boot.

Soon, it felt like we were being flung around through the air, it was almost like flying – no, falling, but falling from all directions.

It was less exhilarating and more nauseating. I hung on for dear life, squeezing my eyes together as I had done when we travelled to Egypt. We'd used an umbrella for that trip.

The wind whipping my hair in every ridiculous direction possible; the ends even managing to reach across to Hermione beside me. We were a blur of red.

"Let go, kids! Let go!" Dad shouted.

Eyes springing open, I glared at him and shook my head. How could I possibly _let go_? I was falling down an endless spiral and he wanted me to just _go_?

The spinning worsened, as if hearing my terrified thoughts. Sweaty fingers slipping, I was flung over and imagined my sweet, crisp death. Maybe a broken bone or two. Pain wasn't something I dealt well with, though.

I landed with a crash, tumbling into a standing body like a bowling ball to pins.

"Sorry..." I groaned, pushing myself upwards. Cedric and Ginny were on the floor in a heap, letting out pained noises.

"It's no problem," Cedric laughed. His hand reached out to pull me to my feet. Ginny lifted her hand out, waiting on him to get to her. _Git_. "You new to portkeys?"

"Oh, no. No, I'm not." I replied. "I'm just a bit…"

Ginny interrupted, brushing the mud off herself. "Clumsy."

"Could you tell?" I asked sarcastically. Cedric shot me a smile, making my cheeks feel warm.

"Are you alright?" He asked politely, checking me over. I convinced myself that it wasn't out of interest and out of concern - particularly because it was realistic - but I felt my cheeks burn as if he were.

"Fine, thank you, Cedric."

"Come on then, Emelia." Fred grumbled coming up from behind me. He was quick to grab a hold of my arm before he started to drag me in the opposite direction of where the pretty boy was headed.

"Ouch, you're hurting me!" I whined, smacking him hard on the shoulder. They were only spiteful after being thrashed at the Hogwarts gae=me.

"No he's not, if he'd have hurt you, his teeth would be lodged into the back of his throat." George yanked his twin away from me for their own safety. We walked up to a short stout man, his moustache looked itchy.

"Hello Basil," Dad offered, he passed the man the boot.

"Hello there, Arthur," said Basil wearily. "Not on duty, eh? It's all right for some... We've been here all night. You'd better get out of the way, we've got a big party coming in from the Black Forest at five fifteen. Hang on, I'll find your campsite... Weasley... Weasley..." He consulted his parchment list. "About a quarter of a mile's walk over there, first field you come to. Site manager's called Mr. Roberts. Diggory... second field... ask for Mr. Payne."

"Thanks, Basil," said Dad, and he beckoned everyone to follow him.

We set off across the deserted moor, unable to make out much through the mist. After about twenty minutes, a small stone cottage next to a gate swam into view. Beyond it, I could just make out the ghostly shapes of hundreds and hundreds of tents, rising up the gentle slope of a large field toward a dark wood on the horizon. It was just before greeting another stout fat man, that we had to part with the Diggorys.

I made to go talk to Diggory before Ginny got her claws on him. However, two annoying bints thundered in the way.

"You in love, Emelia?" They said wistfully, lanky bodies obstructing my view. Embarrassment burned in my cheeks, praying the Hufflepuff hadn't heard their teasing.

"He's a friend," I growled.

"Details, details." Fred answered. After several moment of back and forth name-calling, he rolled his eyes dramatically. "Say tata then. We haven't got all day."

"Bye, Cedric!" I called out. He waved in turn and I watched him disappear with his father.

"In fair Verona, where we lay our scene," George recited. With a great huff, I continued to glare at them both.

"You need to concentrate on the game," Fred said, "the amount of money we're going to rake in. Come on, the tent isn't far away. Really, you need to rip yourself off of the eye candy for two minutes."

I sighed dramatically towards him, feigning weakness. "Just because you want him all to yourselves." I jabbed my elbow in him with a hiss.

"Or perhaps I'm just making sure you don't get knocked up and get sent to St. Mungos for the rest of your life," George sent me a long look of disappointment. "Mum would send you to nunnery up in Scotland where you'll never talk to anyone ever again. Remember Great Aunt Hilda?"

My eyes went bored, my gaze flickers between them both like the moronic twits they were.

"Yeah, exactly." Fred hissed. "Haven't heard from her since the dark ages, wonder why."

We stuck our tongues out at each other childishly, before I _hmphed_ and stormed off.

"Morning!" said Dad brightly in front of me.

"Morning," said a Muggle.

"Would you be Mr. Roberts?"

"Aye, I would," said Mr. Roberts. "And who're you?"

"Weasley - two tents, booked a couple of days ago?"

"Aye," said Mr. Roberts, consulting a list tacked to the door. "You've got a space up by the wood there. Just the one night?"

"That's it," said Mr. Weasley.

"You'll be paying now, then?" said Mr. Roberts.

"Ah - right - certainly -" said Mr. Weasley. He retreated a short distance from the cottage and beckoned Harry toward him. "Help me, Harry," he muttered, pulling a roll of Muggle money from his pocket and starting to peel the notes apart. "This one's a - a - a ten? Ah yes, I see the little number on it now... So this is a five?"

My father was completely useless with the ideas of mundane life, I watched him for a moment longer as he fiddled with his purse for clinking coins. The Ministry of Magic had, had a lot of trouble so I'd heard. Muggles had an annoying habit of screeching about quaffles and odd men wandering around the fields; dressed in pointed hats and robes. What was so odd about dressing in robes?

Roberts watched us walk past, following my father out into the field. I suspected he'd be under a memory charm over and over until the Bulgaria/ Irish game was finished. But my mind forgot about the muggle, I was focused on the roar of wizards in front of us now.

The campsite was marvellous, bright colours and sounds popped my senses. Families upon families were laughing outside of their camping spots, wondrous spells going off next my ears. A child whizzed past my right side on a stardust two thousand — a broomstick made for little ones. We couldn't afford those. My early training days before Hogwarts were always on full-sized Cleansweeps.

Having loved Quidditch, the exhilaration of the match ahead made my heartbeat thunder like I couldn't control it. I didn't want to either.

I looked up at the tent we'd arrived at. "Treated like royalty, as per usual," I muttered.

"Glad they put the effort in for us..." Ron commented sarcastically next me. In big, golden letters it read 'WEEZLY'.

The two of us walked inside, eyes widening in awe. A canvas, vast and cream-coloured was above us, held up by wooden posts that released a Nordic vibe.

"Bloody hell," Ron murmured beside me. I placed my rucksack down on one of the chairs in the middle of the room. All mix-matched colours spaced out around an open fire, already crackling. Still, it smelt strongly of cats. Whoever Dad had borrowed this from clearly did not care for delicacy.

Ron bounded across the large space, skipping up to the bounty of hard food layered on the sideboard which were there as a compliment for our stay. Biscuits, croissants, bread and sweets were at his hands. I wouldn't see a single one with his appetite.

"Ron, get out of the kitchen!" Dad scolded suddenly.

"Get out of the kitchen, Ron!" Fred and George sang, taking a seat comfortably. I noticed a cloud of dust rose from the chairs.

Dad strolled past and glanced at them. "Feet off the table, boys!"

" _Feet off the table_!"

The trio went off to collect water, coming back with gossip of Hogwarts already. Our year hadn't even begun but I could hear Hermione whispering Chang's name then shutting her mouth before Ginny could hear them; common decency wasn't lost. And as the sun began to set, Dad lit a fire pit outside and we huddled around it for dinner.

* * *

"Bode and Croaker-?" Hermione was questioning me, Dad was trying to tell Potter and her all the secrets of the Ministry which us Weasley's knew about... Unfortunately.

"Unspeakables..." George raised an eyebrow. "Very secretive. I hope to be one, one day. I've got the grace of an angel, I'll take a secret to the grave."

"Puh- _lease_ ," Fred waved his hand. "You've got as much grace as Uncle Borris that day he tripped and fell off a cliff down in Devonshire."

I snorted at my brother as I poked the eggs we had cooking on the fire. Now my job to organise food, I felt a little put off making it as I couldn't cook to save a troll. Even now I was poking the pan with a stick and watched fat spit over the sides.

Just as the eggs were finished cooking Bill, Charlie, and Percy came strolling out of the woods towards us. My brothers gave us large smiles, their ginger hair and long arms were all the same.

"Just apparated, Dad." Percy said loudly. "Ah, excellent, Lunch!"

Percy stuffed his face with what Hermione had piled on his plate. We all ate together, watching Dad as he bought Ludo Bagman Barty Crouch over. They discussed hushed plans about Hogwarts and the game, the twins being not-so-secretive about their bet now. Ludo was betting too, his pockets empty of gold due to the Lepraucauns staying half way across the camping field.

I was glad I hadn't bet any of my gold, I had too little of it to waste on men like Bagman; it made me agitated hearing about money. I could only watch my brothers waste what little of theirs they had.

Money was all we heard about as we bought hats and trinkets from the stalls just before entering the stadium. Ron forced a bright green Irish hat on his ginger head, Ginny with her arms covered in red bangles and the twins had brought fading pixies. Not real pixies, but fake red ones which danced around your head for an hour or two then vanished. I was idly letting one crawl around my fingers as we began to climb.

"You can fly," I said quietly to it. "Why are you making me carry you?"

With glowing blue eyes, it peered up at me. "I'm a sleepy thing. Onwards, steed."

"Blimey Dad, how far up are we?" Ron cried on our way to our seats. His long hair flopped everywhere even I was surprised he could see anything. At least there weren't spiders up here, he'd trip over his locks and fall over the side in the stadium. We were free of the beams.

"Well, let's put it this way," the voice that answered was not that of Arthur Weasley, but the low and familiar drawl of a snake. When I looked down, I clearly saw that Lucius Malfoy and his son glaring up at the group of us, dressed up in their finest robes. "If it rains, you'll be the first to know."

"I was really hoping I wouldn't run into you until school, Malfoy," I sneered, looking at the youngest reincarnation of evil. I would have called him one of my cruel nicknames - I was very good with cruel nicknames. Loopy-Lucius and Malignant-Malfoy were apparently not among his preferred terms of endearment. Among my talents, was my gentle nature with animals – able to deal with even the mightiest – but his father was there and I didn't want Lucius screwing Dad over at work.

"Father and I are in the Minister's box," the teen smirked, raising a taunting eyebrow towards me. He was stupid, but he knew I loved playing Quidditch and watching it. This showing off was boring and I wanted to punch him in the throat. I don't know who he was trying to impress. "By personal invitation of Cornelius Fudge himself."

"Don't boast, Draco." Lucius shoved his creepy snake-headed cane straight into his son's gut and I narrowed my eyes at the display, git or not a father should not act like that around his son. It was wrong. "There's no need with these people."

Lucius Malfoy and I met eyes and I glared at him openly, there was no hiding that I hated him even more than his son and he and I were on terrible terms thanks to my big mouth and talent for pranks.

"Do enjoy yourself, won't you?" He looked at Harry. "While you can."

"You can be rest-assured, he will," I snapped, my habit sneaking up on me like a snake. "Oh, and Drakie, I love what you've done with your hair! The slime compliments the grease superbly!"

"Emilia!" Hermione gasped as she pulled me roughly. Ginny smirked.

Grinning at the glare Malfoy turned to give me, I turned and carried on walking up. Even Hermione's lectures made me happy to listen to; despite the fourty-two flights of stairs.

Although the twins seemed quite amused with my insult. My father looked at pointedly but didn't scold me, he knew I wouldn't change; I'd always been the same.

By the time we got to our spot, the game was already starting to begin. Ginny tugged on my arm and pointed to where a group in the same green as Slytherin robes flew. She jumped up and down excitedly, just because he knew they would win. "It's the Irish!"

"Here come the Bulgarians!" George continued, his twin cheered excitedly beside him and took ahold of Potter. Harry looked to me and laughed, overcome with the joint unity us Weasley's shared. They stopped screaming when one flyer from the red and black Bulgarian team started to do spectacular tricks that I'd never seen any other flyer do. He was amazing as he flew past us, up and around everyone else, he looked severe even as he tried to look charming for his fans.

"Krum!" Us Weasley's shouted excitedly. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Hermione wasn't really into the game but I didn't blame her, she wasn't quite used to the cult behaviour my brothers were showing. They seemed to have developed an obsessive chant, their fists banging the railings like animals in a cage.

Still slightly nervous, I prayed my bettings were right—they had to be right, I mean, I had read every constellation correctly, especially Aries. Perhaps my brother's obsession with betting was infectious. Soon I was screeching with my sister, both of us nearly falling over the rail.

The Irish were on fire and literally conquering the field. Half the time I couldn't even see Krum, who was whizzing around the field as if he was constantly able to see the snitch, he was on a wild hunt for it. That tiny moustache he had going on emphasised the aggressiveness of him and when the screen zoomed in on that grouchy face of his even I felt intimidated.

I almost felt bad for the Bulgarian keeper; Halton was trying as hard as he could, but the Irish were far too good for him to stand a chance.

Bill and Charlie screamed a Bulgarian chant, dancing around beside me. They'd always been close, having left school only a year apart. I looked and laughed at the pair of them, swinging their arms around Percy. For once, he wasn't in a suit, but sporting a hat with a miniature dancing leprechaun on top. The pixies fluttered off of Ron's head and joined in with the chanting.

"Aren't you meant to be singing for the Irish?"

"We love a good singsong, m'lady!" and then it cried: " _maînata na irlandtsite_!"

Hours past and Krum hadn't seemed to have tired out. The Bulgarian chasers had put up a good fight but were showing intense exhaustion and the Irish chasers looked like they were lazily winning the game now; Lancaster even yawned after the seventeen goal. Unless the Bulgarians got some serious goals and caught the snitch, there was no way they would win.

And I would be twenty-five galleons richer, having not spent a penny.

Suddenly, Potter yelled out and pointed to where Krum and Audenbry, the Irish seeker, were madly chasing the snitch. It took me a few moments, but soon enough I could see it once it was mentioned - just a flicker of gold inches away from Krum's fingers.

Finally he caught it and the crowd went wild, lots because the infamous Krum had done it again - but the Irish fans were cheering because their team had still won, likewise I was screaming in cheers after winning proving to my brothers I was right. Firewhiskey was being thrown around as we made our way out of the arena and a very large and very happy bearded Irish man grabbed ahold of my hands, spinning me around before grabbing another girl.

A rough Irish accent loomed nearby, the scuttle of Irish folk cheering _. "She is handsome she is pretty, she is the Belle of Belfast City!"_

Laughing loudly, I struggled to squeeze through the crowd as they continued to sing their hearts out defiantly.

 _"She is courting one, two, three! Pray won't you tell me who is she!"_

As we neared our tent, even Hermione and I were dancing along with everyone, adopting fake Irish accents to sing along with the others thundering around outside. Fred had mysteriously disappeared after we left the arena to gather his winnings and had now returned with a hefty bag of gold. George seemed to nearly faint with joy, the twins were quick to hoist people up and sing.

Bill grabbed me, pulling me up onto his shoulders. Ginny was on Charlie's and we were swung around violently. Our brothers cared not for my uneasy stomach, but I was so overjoyed that I couldn't stop the grin.

People all around us seemed to be screaming in excitement as well, it only encouraged us further as I pranced around Ronald. We didn't stop the merriment when we got inside, instead the fire was alight and pixies continued dancing with us.

"There's no one like Krum!" Ron exclaimed dramatically. "It's like a bird the way he rides the wind. He's not an athlete – he's an artist!"

"I think you're in love, Ron." Ginny laughed, I joined her.

"Viktor, I love you! Viktor, I do!" The twins sang. We all raised our glasses of butterbeer to join in the familiar melody. "When we're apart my heart beats only for you!"

"Sounds like the Irish have got their pride on!" Fred smiled at the sound of the excitement outside. I took the time that he and George were distracted to climb on a chair and jump on George's back when he least expected it. He nearly fell forward but caught his balance on the chair opposite of where I had climbed.

"She is handsome, she is pretty, she is the Belle of Belfast City!" singing loudly, I pranced around.

"Aye!" He and Charlie cheered, George pushing me up on his back as he started to prance around. I was giggling wildly as he did this, but we were stopped short and he even dropped me when Mr Weasley came in with a wild look.

"Stop it!" That would be when I was dropped. "Stop it! It's not the Irish." Grabbing ahold of mine and Ginny's arms, he pushed us all out of the tent and into the roar of betrayal.

And there was screaming, not the good, overjoyed and excited scream you make like Ron made when Krum flew and hovered at arms-length from us but the gut-wrenching and god awful screech of agony and fear. My voice fell numb and became lost.

"Back to the portkey! Back to– Ginny, come on!" Dad grabbed Fred and shoved him into us, the last person to get out of the tent. The uproar in front of us left the group in a daze for a moment, until Dad began shouting again.

There were so many arms knocking my sides that I felt my head beginning to whirl, looking up at the twins and to Ginny in panic, I wasn't sure what to do. There was a bright orange in the distance, a black ball of fire burst on the horizon followed by a scream.

"Fred—Ginny is your responsibility! Percy and the boys, get them to the portkey!" My father's voice was barely audible. "Ron–Emilia-! You two stick together!"

Turning on my heel, I caught sight of my father running off into the direction of the black smoke and felt an urge to follow him. But Ronald grabbed my wrist and forced me into the formation of our group as we weaved through the crowd; my shoes weren't tied, I realised.

"Ron!" I screamed, treading on my shoe lace so I tripped. The others were looking around wildly.

A god awful growl came from my right, a chanting language which sounded like your tongue scraping against the back of your throat. Masked figures blurred the far side of me, making me trip trying to look at them; I took my wand out of my pocket.

"Do you see them-?!" I shouted to my brothers. "Do you see-?" Harry Potter bounded in front of me, his shoulder knocking against my left wand hand. I felt the thing fly from my finger-tips, it flew into the mask of the trees.

"Emilia-?" Fred called next to me, but I was watching my wand disappear. I shoved away from my family on an act of will, the will that I would not lose the one thing that made me feel safe.

Men and women knocked me sideways harshly until I made a beeline for the forest, away from the wretched tragedy of the game. Tripping into the shelter of it with the picture of my wand rolling away still on my mind. My brothers would be at the portkey, I knew where that was, and I could catch up.

Fire erupted behind me, far enough away so it didn't scorch me but close enough that I felt a blast of warmth. It was followed by screams and louder stomping, the tragedy beginning to set in. How could everything fall apart so quickly?

Father's tent was probably burnt with all of our things nothing more than ash; and the other one thing I actually cared for was gone. This time my fault because I was holding it tight enough as Potter flung himself around like the dramatic saviour he was.

Mid-grumble I realised it was becoming difficult to see the ground at my feet. I could feel it, feel the wet mud soaking my trainers and the chill of the woods but I could be stepping right on my wand and snap it.

"Can't even use lumos because I haven't got my bloody wand..." I edged.

"Talking to yourself, Weasel?"

My eyes closed without even meaning to, the agitation bubbling in my chest. Sighing, I looked up at himself, "Malfoy."

Malfoy snapped, not as venomously as he could have but it was enough to make me want to get out of the situation and find my brothers. "I'm glad you're not blind," he said.

"I wish I was then I wouldn't have to deal with the foul sight of you."

There was still a roar around us, a little farther away now but I could still see fire burning every inch of the campsite, every scream seemed so far now — I wondered whether my brothers had noticed I had gone. Perhaps they were smart enough and took Ginny back to the portkey, and got away. Away from those... dark things and from all the green, the killing curses

"What's happening?" I whispered, mild curiosity creeping in. Malfoy turned his head and stared for a minute at the wall lit up treeline where they were. "Do you know?"

"Of course I do." His eyes hit mine harshly. "They're death eaters."

Death Eaters. I had heard about them before, from dad whispering to mum when he didn't think we were listening. "Voldemort's followers," I said sceptically, feeling the discrepancy in his name.

Malfoy tilted his head at my nerve to use his name, tightening his jaw when I said it.

"What's wrong, Malfoy?" Taking a step forward, I raised an eyebrow to provoke him but the moment passed and he turned sour. "You scared?"

"You're think you're so brave, Weasley." He sneered, taking a few steps closer to me, I raised an eyebrow, holding myself close.

"Well, as long as it doesn't get me killed, Drakie, I figure it's not a bad characteristic." I shrugged. "Why are you stalking in the woods?"

"Hiding from the Death Eaters, obviously." He walked past me and looked out from the trees. "They're not out there any longer."

"And just what would happen were they to find _our_ little rendevous spot?"

"Me, they may hex. You, they'd probably torture." I made a face. "Which is why you should shut your fat mouth, you lard."

"I don't have a-"

"I said shut it," Malfoy hissed. He looked around momentarily then looked back at me, a bored glaze over him as if my presence was no longer as exciting now. "What are you even doing here? I can't smell the stench of the rest of your family — finally realised they're pigs, have you? The dancing was revolting."

"Dancing?" I repeated, and released an empty laugh. "You been spying on me?"

"We could hear the appalling singing from our cabin."

I wanted to snap his pretty little neck in half, but all I could think of was my wand. "Pompous arse. Can you be a little bit more useful than insulting? I've lost my wand-"

"You mean _this_ wand?" Holding it up with a small, smug grin. I took a hasty step forward but he held his arm back.

"Pray tell me how you even managed to lose it?" Malfoy drawled, his hands turning my wand slowly as if he was truly interested. "Maybe if you actually took care of your things, you wouldn't be such a bloody idiot all the time. You nearly failed all your exams because you forgot your parchment out of all things..."

Letting out a scoff, I marched forward and held a hand out. "I actually passed my exams despite losing my equipment _and_ if you're so interested: Harry knocked it out of my hand when I was trying to get away." At the mention of Potter's name, Malfoy's face grew cold and hateful — he threw my wand back sharply.

"Jealous?" I cooed. Wonder-boy was a soft spot for him, I loved saying Potter's name just the rile him up.

Malfoy grumbled unhappily, shoving his hands deep into his pocket. "Why the hell would I be jealous? He spent his summer in a pigsty."

 _That_ didn't hurt. Instead I found it pathetic compared to what he could say; right now I could tell he didn't have the mindset he needed, Malfoy looked nervous and I bathed in it. "You're such a bint Malfoy — I'm surprised mummy hasn't come running to wipe your nose yet."

"Go find Saint Potter and the rest of the Weasels," Malfoy ignored what I said, thinking about Harry once again. He snarled. "I have to go and find my father."

"Not your Mummy?"

"She hates Quidditch. She's at home."

As was mine. I looked back at the campsite, now a distant roar of screams. "Why are they here? What good does this do; hurting people."

"Sending a message," Malfoy said. "Fear is always stronger."

I rolled my eyes. "At least you admit you're a complete coward - sometimes it shocks even me."

"I'm not a coward," he hissed, his cheeks tinting pink.

"Oh, you are a coward," I assured. "You can come with me if you want, it may save your fat arse from being cursed into a snivelling little toad." Malfoy squinted at the mention of it, looking almost amused.

"Come with you? Cower with your snivelling family? I'd rather be hexed."

"I can do that for you," I growled.

"Trust me, Weasley. They'd do more than turn you into Longbottom's pet."

"And you'd know would you? Oh, my hero."

Draco stepped backwards, he looked like a rat slinking back into the shadows; a snobby one whose upturned nose grated my very skin. "No," he said. "I think I'll leave boy-wonder to save your arse. After all you must feel like royalty having a brother whose practically married to the idiot."

"I can save myself, thanks. And try using a different insult instead of Potter for once — I'm not as hyped about him as you make out Dorko."

"You should've been a Gryffindor."

"Yeah, well, you can thank Ignatius Prewitt for that. Really, I should have been given compensation for the amount of time I've spent with you," I continued with a snarl. "I should get a bloody award, your constant moaning is beginning to do my head in."

I began to walk out of the trees and heard him let out a loud groan. "Will you get back in here?"

"The wood is hardly the place I would spend time with anyone, even the likes of you, Dragon-Dick. Our romantic location isn't my forté, go and find Pansy to transmit your diseases with."

"Romantic location. In your dreams Weasle-Bee, I'm actually talking about the death eaters who _will_ kill you," he argued, walking just behind me. "You may think your sarcasm outwits them but you're wrong." He was very nervous, turning his head constantly to see every direction around us - I rolled my eyes at him, watching as his cool grey eyes tried to give off their own warning.

"I might just begin screaming just so they find us, I fantasise about the day you'll shut that gaping hole of a mouth."

"Only because I'm always right." He mumbled, with the small roll of his eyes. I could have sworn it gave him a tad bit more colour of red to his cheeks. He turned towards me with a glare, probably just to hide how nervous he actually was. "Bitch."

"Nag."

"Squib."

A voice erupted from behind far off in the distance, I levelled it at an area where the fire had burnt out and recognised the voice cracks immediately, "Emilia! Emilia! Where are you?!"

"Charlie!" I gasped when I saw a green jet of life fly into the sky over Malfoy's shoulder. He widened his eyes briefly. "Go and find your father."

"Huh." He gritted his teeth. "Who's Charlie?"

"My brother! Come on, we have to leave!" I gasped, taking off at a sprint away from what was now twisting towards the sky. It was a ghastly cloud - bright green and illuminating. My blood turned to ice, watching the great snake unravel before me. Its tongue formed a skull, meandering through the night sky like a beacon of death.

"Weasley! Weasley, that's the Dark Mark, you fool!"

I carried on, not looking back at Malfoy. He was lost from my peripheral vision, slinking back into the woods like a burrowing creature. By the time I grew closer to the hill, the skull behind me was morphing through the sky like a demon. My Dad was no where to be seen. Nor my brothers and especially my twin.

"Emilia-!" Charlie blubbered, a hand grasping my shoulder. I jumped back, startled. "Where have you been, I…."

"My wand. I lost my wand." My voice came quickly, out of breath. "Sorry, Charlie."

"Your wand? Did you find it? Emilia, you shouldn't have run off, we were worried sick! When your Mum finds out… wait, do not tell Mum of this."

"I know, Charlie, I know. I'm sorry. Where are the others?" My voice was rushed, enveloping myself in my brother's arms. He said Percy and Bill had managed to find another portkey and were safe with Mum. Ginny was waiting at the top of the hill with Fred and George.

"What about Ron? Where's Ron?"

"He went with Dad. They said something about another portkey in the field over."

The freezing summer air brushed against my neck, making me shiver. Still, I could sense the Dark Mark behind me. Squeezing my eyes together, I didn't look again and followed Charlie away from the site.

Ginny was in a quarrel with the older twins. Her skin was flustered, bright red with anger.

"We should go and find them! You cowards! We have to go and get our Dad!" she cried. Her voice wobbled.

"Gin," I said urgently. "We have to get out of here, now."

"What about Ron? Harry? Dad?"

"They'll be fine. We won't be if we continue to piss about up here."

Fred and George were pre-occupied with the nasty boot on the floor as Charlie enchanted it to transport us back to the Burrow.

Now I was high up, I could see the miles of farmland which had been set alight. Tents were tiny beacons of fear and yet, no one was screaming anymore. It was like watching a ghost-town, one full of fire.

Ginny's eyes swam with tears. I clenched my teeth together and took her hand, dragging her to our brothers.

"Is it ready?" I asked impatiently.

"Almost," Charlie replied, his voice deep with desperation. "Just give me..."

"Mia, we can go and find Dad now!" Ginny continued. "Quickly! We've got a few minutes!"

"Ginny, shut up. Please, just stay here and stop it," I hissed. "We will end up hurt if we go back there. Look at that thing!" I pointed to the sky, eyes full of anger. The snake hissed above us, illuminating our Weasley-red hair. "That's the Dark Mark and those people were Death Eaters!"

George looked up. "How do you know, Emelia?"

Malfoy. The lie came smooth. "I heard people screaming what they were. I saw them pointing in the air when it was conjured."

"Oh, Godric," Ginny murmured. "Dad..."

"It's ready." Charlie bent down, crouched in front of the footwear. My brother's face were hard as stone, unable to compute what I had told them. Perhaps they knew I was lying about who had told me. For now, I didn't care. I just wanted to get out and save my skin.

Grabbing hold of the shoe, I forced Ginny down with me and held her hand in place. My eyes were squeezed tightly together whilst hers watched the sky. The world shredded away like confetti and we were plunged into whirling darkness.

* * *

 _a/n - edited and re-uploaded. Thank you to the guest who reviewed and warned me of the dreaded Mary-Sue universe I was entering! You were right and I understand that I must distinguish Emelia as her own character._

 _Please review. Or just read! Thank you!_


	3. Returning Home

_"Home is people. Not a place._ _If you go back there after the people are gone,_ _then all you can see is what is not there any more."_

 _– Robin Hobb_

* * *

 **Three: Returning Home**

* * *

Returning to the burrow had been a dramatic affair. For several days, Mum barely slept, she was fussing over everyone, even at breakfast. Cooking, preparing and dishing out everything we had in the kitchen.

Seeing Noel again was the highlight of my return, besides being squeezed near-death by Mum. As a white cat, he was the top predator in the family pets we owned. I'd been adamant about having him instead of a the insane barn owl in our possession.

With Noel on my lap, I sat holding a cup of steaming tea, reading the Daily Prophet. There was another copy in Dad's hands, as well as a tea with a shot of Odgen's Old Firewhiskey in it. Bill leaned over, scoping out the gossip. With Percy beside me, Noel watched him with beady blue eyes.

"Oh dear," Dad said heavily. "Ministry blunders... Culprits not apprehended... lacking security... Dark wizards unchecked... national disgrace... Oh dear. Who would write this?"

"Rita Skeeter," I answered, having read the article already.

"That woman's got it in for the Ministry of Magic!" said Percy furiously, nearly spitting cereal all over me. "Last week she was saying we're wasting our time quibbling about cauldron thickness, when we should be stamping out vampires! As if it wasn't specifically stated in paragraph twelve of the Guidelines for the Treatment of Non-Wizard Part-Humans —"

"Do us a favor, Perce," said Bill, "and shut up."

Snorting, I yanked the paper back off of the anxiety-filled brother and continued my browse. Noel grumbled under my chin, fighting to stay still.

"I'm mentioned," Dad's eyes were wide behind his glasses, I put a piece of ripped toast into my mouth.

"Where?" spluttered Mum, choking on her tea and whiskey. I could smell it from where I sat. "I'm going to wring my hands around their necks if there's a single bad word!"

"It doesn't say his name, Mum," I pointed out.

Dad nodded. "Listen to this: ' _If the terrified wizards and witches who waited breathlessly for news at the edge of the wood expected reassurance from the Ministry of Magic, they were sadly disappointed. A Ministry official emerged some time after the appearance of the Dark Mark alleging that nobody had been hurt, but refus- ing to give any more information. Whether this statement will be enough to quash the rumors that several bodies were removed from the woods an hour later, remains to be seen._ ' Oh really," Dad hugged in exasperation.

He didn't seem annoyed but rather tired, the whole affair was made to sound Voldemort was flinging the killing curse back and forth and everywhere.

A dangerous topic to joke about in this household. Percy finally managed to snatch the paper out of my hands. Noel's claws dug deep into my legs. He read three words, heaved and flustered, then spat Pixie Puffs across the table.

"Bloody moron," I hissed.

Percy brashly flapped the paper, his big nose disappearing behind it. "Nobody was hurt. What was I supposed to say? ' _Rumors that several bodies were removed from the woods'_. . . well, there certainly will be rumors now she's printed that."

My ears became aware of a choking noise on the windowsill, Pigwidegon was heaving up an owl treat Ron had shoved down his throat to stop him squawking. My cat watched the bird, his tongue rolling out and licking his lips.

One day, he'll be able to gobble the cretin up.

I rolled my eyes at how much noise there was in the room, the grumble of plates and everyone shouting at each other to get their points across made my head ache.

It set my teeth on edge. We'd been back for two days and every morning there was grumbling from Bill about the dragon trade profits being negative, or Mum screaming at the twins about an order form for Vampire venom, then it was Hermione's arguing with Ron about the treatment of Winky, Barty Crouch's house-elf. Now Rita's tabloid gave The Burrow another thing to moan about.

My trunk had been packed for two weeks, all of my parchment and quills along with my galleons were stashed and ready to be seen again when I got back to my dormitory.

Funnily enough, I was more excited to see my room-mates and ask them about the Dark Mark. Sharing with Flora Carrow, Sybil Gibbon and Daphne Greengrass as well as Verita Boot was a small part of my wizarding education I actually enjoyed.

Soon, Dad headed for the fireplace. Leaving a kiss on my forehead, he disappeared to work by floo-powder. The Ministry were struggling with controlling the events at the cup so he had to return before his holiday finished to help. I'd have left them to suffer.

Ron, Harry and Hermione went upstairs shortly after. Potter looked distressed, his face a frown. I watched him scratch his scar before leaving the room. It might've been the lack of post from Sirius Black, or maybe the Dark Mark effected him in a way I couldn't understand.

"In my opinion..." Percy began.

"Which we–" I said.

"Did not ask for," Fred and George finished.

Percy ignored us. "Father shouldn't have made a public statement without clearing with the Head of Department first."

"Don't you dare blame your father for what that wretched Skeeter wrote!" Mum flared immediately.

Bill sipped his coffee. "Honestly Percy, people were panicking. Dad hadn't a clue where Emilia was, or we were."

I nodded, "he said the right thing. Apparently you were blubbering like a baby when you disapparated back home, _without us_ , might I add. So, I doubt you could've said anything better."

"Skeeter is a close-minded cow. Mum, do you remember when she called me a long-haired pillock after interviewing the Gringott's Charm Breakers?"

"Well, it is a bit long, dear," she replied. "If you just let me-"

"Don't. I like it this way."

"Bill likes looking homeless," Fred said. The twins had moved in front of the fireplace, scribbling on a piece of parchment. It took our attention to them and Mum swooped down like a hawk.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Homework," said Fred. A lie.

"Don't be ridiculous, you're still on holiday."

She _accio_ 'ed the paper and I was already getting up from the table. Her eyes flared black and there was a deep intake of breath like she was ready to spit flames. Hoisting Noel into my arms, I left the table and hurried upstairs.

" _Again?_ _You're ordering more_!" Mum screeched. Fred and George's ears must be bleeding.

Noel squiggled in my hands. I rubbed a hand over his head and back. Noise annoyed him, especially when it was loud and harsh on his listening. "Hush," I whispered gently, placing my lips to the soft corner behind his ear. "Let's get ready to leave."

My room was on the third floor, opposite Ginny's. The tiny rectangular shape was enough for a bed, a hanging clothes rail and my suitcase. My school bag was stuffed with my books handed down from Bill, my robes and wand which was also handed down from Charlie.

Heaving the suitcase out as well, I struggled onto the landing. There was a flurry of whispering above me. Harry, Ron and Hermione sounded deep in conversation and I picked up the words: 'scar', 'Dumbledore', and 'Wormtail'.

Ron glanced over the wooden rail and spotted me, he slapped Harry and they all shut up.

"Could you gossip any louder, Ronald?" I said icily, embarrassed it appeared I'd been snooping.

"Takes a fat mouth to know one." Ron was pulling his own bags, messing around with the crumpled robes Mum had bought him. "Why is everything I own rubbish?" he scowled.

"Maybe if you saved you'd be able to buy robes you liked," I snapped, storming down the stairs.

Luckily, Fred and George weren't being told off anymore. They were packed and ready to head home.

Bill had gone already, disapparating to the Ministry before jetting off to Gringotts. Charlie was hugging Ginny.

"I'll miss you, too, kiddo," he said, moving over to me. I closed my eyes as he wrapped his arms around me. "Don't get in too much trouble."

"I'll try my best. Won't promise anything," I said. "Try visit over Christmas?"

"Might see you earlier." Mum and Charlie shared a knowing looks, smirks on both of their faces.

"What do you mean?"

"I can't say. Especially not with Percy-Big-Nose lingering. It's top secret Ministry things, but I'm sure you'll find out when you get to Hogwarts."

Shaking his head, we ended the conversation at that made our way to King's Cross Station.

The journey was uncomfortable, we were crammed into three taxis. Muggle taxis. Noel and Crookshanks were confined to their carriers as the driver was against even having them in the car at all. Ron was sat beside me, his great mop of hair flicking into my mouth every time he moved. The drive through London was a busy one. Monday morning traffic was always horrendous and people were in terrible moods now the weekend was over.

The train station car park was rammed which I was semi-grateful for. If Pansy, Malfoy or Zabini were lurking I'd get an earful of insults and I just wanted quiet.

Coming to a stop, I practically fell out of the door to be free of Muggle travelling and immediately went to the boot. The taxi driver was already there, unloading our suitcases.

After thanking him, I noticed Potter helping Dad with muggle coins. My gaze flickered between the two as jealousy pricked my insides. I had no reason to be. Harry was just helping him, it was innocent and kind.

Somewhere inside, I wish I knew more about stupid muggle things so I could be the one Dad praised.

"Out of the way, twit," Fred said, nearly knocking me sideways with his luggage.

"I'm gonna hurt you!" I hissed and wheeled my things away from the headache.

Walking through the brick barrier separating the muggle world from mine, I waited on the other side for the rest of my family to join. They came through in groups, until finally we were all together.

The Hogwarts Express was a gleaming beauty to behold. With clouds of steam billowing out of the engine, I itched to get onboard. Waving bye to my Dad and Gryffindor siblings, I left my twin and stowed my luggage.

* * *

"Chocolate frog?" asked Daphne as soon as I entered the compartment. My two best friends were sat idly talking.

"Wait for me to breathe first," I snorted.

At the beginning of term it was usually impossible to find a space for just a couple of people. New students were usually so timid that they took up a whole compartment to themselves until one plucked up the courage to sit opposite a stranger.

The first journey I'd taken was with Ron, Harry and Hermione. After that, it was Daphne Greengrass and Sybil Carrow. Out of all Slytherins, the two were arguably the least picky with blood-status and wealth. Sometimes they let slip their true beliefs, but it was always _in for a penny and out for a pound_ if you chose your reply right.

Meandering my way to the window, I took a seat opposite Sybil and bit into the chocolate treat offered to me. Noel mewed at the creature perched in a cage. It was a fluffy, jet-black owl.

"My cousins brought it for me," Sybil said, running her long-nailed fingers over the metal bars. "For my birthday. Isn't she beautiful?"

Daphne's kneazle was staring at the pet like it was a prized chicken in a slaughterhouse.

"Sybil, your Dad works in the Ministry," I began, changing the subject. She already looked bored, aware of how far my nosiness could go. "Why is there such an uproar about the Dark Mark?"

" _Your_ father works for the Ministry, Emilia," she said plainly, but then sighed, "however, I doubt Muggle Artefacts would tell him much. It's the mark of death."

"Death? No one died. The muggles in the woods was just Skeeter telling lies."

Daphne picked her nails casually and shrugged. "Maybe someone did and they're covering it up."

"With thousands of witnesses not seeing a single body? It doesn't make any sense." Come to think of it, during the terror of the attack, not once had _I_ seen anyone injured. Minus the burns inflicted from panic. "I saw the Death Eaters," I said quietly. "But they weren't attacking anyone. They were chanting and walking around. _Why_?"

"Am I meant to know the answer to that?" Daphne asked pointedly. I crossed my arms. "Honestly, if you must know, the mark calls for its master."

"Volde–?"

"Emilia!" Sybil hissed.

"For He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," Daphne finished with a slightly darker look. "It's igniting a match. An old fire."

Relaxing physically but choking mentally, I sat back and thought about the coldness I felt seeing the image. The snake sunk into my very core, wrapping it's hiss around me.

I looked up at the pair. "Harry saw who conjured it."

"Of course Potter would've seen who did it." Daphne rolled her eyes. "Did he say who it was?"

I shook my head. "No, just that it was a man."

"Did he have to give a statement to the Ministry? Or anyone?"

My silence told them the answer. We all struggled to keep up with the endeavours of Harry Potter and ever since the World Cup the secrecy that surrounded him made my head ache. He hadn't mentioned the man again, or maybe he had to Ron.

"Come on, this is so dramatic," Daphne groaned. "I really do not want to even look at Potter or hear his name until I'm seven feet under."

Sybil offered a game of exploding snap and we played several games. Laughing and joking despite the depressing start to our reunion.

I picked up a card and flicked it at Daphne's face. She swiped one back, until the game was ruined and the compartment was filled with giggles. Sybil's owl pecked at one which had landed in her cage. I eyed it beginning to viciously attack it, out for blood already.

* * *

"Weren't they beautiful?" I said admirably. Still remembering the Abraxan swooping over the castle, dragging a great carriage. The creatures past through the wind like a knife to butter.

There was the ghastly ship rising from the lake as well. One could only imagine who was its captain. Perhaps a ghoulish pirate from a far-off land, I dared to imagine things which couldn't actually be true.

Chatter after the sorting was full of talk about what awaited us. Gossip fluttered around the Hall. I picked up lies from numerous Slytherins whispering along the table.

"It's our new Defence teacher!" someone assured. "Only a Dark Arts professor would arrive in a ghost-ship."

"No. I heard Dumbledore is introducing Abraxan to the Forbidden Forest," another said hopefully.

Firstly, what good would a winged horse be in the middle of dense woodland. Secondly, Abraxan required miles of farmland, flat and empty of other creatures. My eyes flickered to the student, but back to my friends. Showing that I was an insufferable know-it-all would just start the year off terribly.

"Wonder what it _was_ all for," Daphne said. She was still getting over the mighty yawn she'd exhaled, bored from the ceremony.

I shrugged. "Hagrid was meeting the carriage. He's bound to have them under his care now."

"We won't be seeing much of you then this term, I take it."

"Caring for Abraxan or doing Muggle Studies homework? Oh, I can't decide which is better," I laughed, earning a grin from Theodore Nott, sat on my right. He was pleasant to talk to, easy. Pure-blood with strict family values, but kind to me. I'd caught him last year snogging Blaise.

Together, we eyed the new-comers sat down the end of the table.

"Poor sods," Theodore said.

We watched the first years shaking their hair like mangy dogs, rainwater sloshing off. Crossing the lake was a tradition which Dumbledore clearly didn't want to stop, even if it meant the students could've drowned in their own boats. At least they'd seen the ship up close.

Yawning, I struggled to refocus on the professors as they were introduced. Yet, Snape was missing and so was the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. That role was jinxed, every professor ended up dead, missing, or with Lord Voldemort glued to the back of his head.

"And that song... what did it mean? His lyrical abilities are appalling," Daphne said to me from across the table. "You'd think he'd be a bit more creative. I mean he spends the rest of the year doing nothing, but, well, being a hat."

"Compared to not being a hat now?" I drooled sarcastically. She ignored it. "I'd sleep all the time if I were a hat."

"You look like you're sleeping now, Weasle," the sickening voice of Pansy Parkinson drooled nearby. "You look like death."

I snapped my eyes to her. She was sat several seats closer to the front of the hall, opposite me. Her left hand was twiddling with her bobbed hair, then other running through Malfoy's white locks. A smirk was pulling her at her lips, and I despised her. "If I were dead, I'd be better off. I wouldn't have to listen to your snivelling voice, you troll," I spat.

"Oh, yes. You must know what trolls are like since you live with them."

I went to stand, prepared to sling the table across the hall just to wrap my hands around her throat. Family was a touchy subject. Theodore's hand slid around my arm tight enough to hurt. I wish he'd dig his nails in, just to suppress the bubbling anger within me.

"Push off, Pansy," he snapped. "You've barely talked for the last ten minutes, in between snogging Malfoy's ear. Can't you use your mouth to be helpful for once?"

She clamped her mouth shut, wanting to say more, but choosing wisely.

"Honestly..." Sybil muttered, her hand underneath her chin as she listened to the quarrelling. Theodore laughed at us, his face alight with amusement.

"Nothing's changed. How Parkinson treats people, even her own house..." he said. "You shouldn't try and be physical, Emelia. I know you want to lamp her, but it'll be pointless."

"You're right. I wouldn't forgive myself if I were expelled because of it."

Daphne nodded. She didn't despise Pansy because she knew their families were close. "You always have to think of the future."

"I didn't when I did a tripping jinx on her in second year," Theodore grinned.

A grimace spread across my lips. "She called you a conceited, walking mistake because your Mum..."

"Had me when she was fifteen. Yeah," he said icily, eyes sliding over to the girl who'd been relentlessly cruel to the entire Hogwarts population at some point.

Daphne leaned towards him. "If it's any comfort," she said gently. "I think you're _just_ conceited."

We began laughing, feeling ease settle over us. It repressed my grumbling stomach. The food was taking longer to appear. With the hall becoming slightly restless, more began to chatter. Noise burned my ears.

I picked at the oak table under me, digging my bitten nails into it with brute force.

"Emelia? _Emelia_! Are you deaf?" I looked up at Sybil, who was leaning over to me. Her long, white hair dangling across the table. She had a beady face with large black eyes, illuminated by her blonde eyebrows.

"Can I help you?"

"Listen," she jabbed down the table to Malfoy. He was in a deep speech about something unimportant. Moving his hands animately, fully aware of the attention he owned from half of the Slytherin table. His posture was straight and tall. My eyes nearly rolled to the back of my head.

"What's he saying?" I whispered to Sybil. "Is it really that important?"

"Yes! I mean, aside from the boasting about his father's role in the Ministry, he's talking about Hogwarts. Something's happening here, tonight!"

Maybe not unimportant, then. Mum and Charlie had been having the same conversation just this morning. Pulling my bottom lip between my teeth, I sat up and peered closer.

"Father actually considered sending me to Durmstrang," he waffled, his voice prideful. I can't believe Sybil wanted me to listen. "He rather good friends with the headmaster. He also doesn't believe in allowing riffraff into schools. Mother didn't like the idea of going so far though. Shame really, Durmstrang's view towards Dark Arts is far more superior..."

Glancing at my friend, I glared. "Am I meant to be impressed?"

" _Impressed_ , Weasle-Bee?" Malfoy's cynical voice came to my ears like an estranged cat.

"Not in the slightest. In fact, I'm rather disappointed you were too thick to be accepted. Would've done me a favour."

Sybil glared openly at me across the table, but remained quiet. It was no use scolding me for being so openly vulgar. The noise and commotion of the hall was giving me a headache.

"You act as if you have no clue what's happening," Malfoy continued, his attention now on me. There was a heartbeat of silence and then he barked a laugh. "You mean you don't know?"

"How could she know? Her father works with Muggles!" Pansy pointed out.

I crossed my arms, looking between the two of them and bubbling with need for the truth. "Actually, you thick cow, it's Muggle Artefacts. Which is about wizards. Would you just tell me?" I growled.

"You ever heard of the Triwizard Tournament, Weasley?" Malfoy asked, his voice still laced with arrogance.

A wizarding tournament where magical folk battled for a championship. My knowledge was hazy, it had been in a book about historical sporting events which I'd read so I'd have a better chance of making the Quidditch team.

I snapped my eyes back to Malfoy's. He was smirking, as if he knew I'd be wracking my brain and had found what I was looking for. Excitement fluttered into my chest now that I knew what Mum and Charlie were talking about. Most of the school still had no clue, though and I now knew more.

"Exactly," Malfoy said. "It's happening here. The Ministry have had a hard time keeping it quiet, but I assume it'll be announced any moment."

Looking around, I noticed that Dumbledore had disappeared from the hall. The teachers were chatting idly between themselves, all looking rather giddy instead of annoyed that dinner was taking so long. Ghosts fluttered around the hall, chatting to the pupils happily.

The Great Hall's ceiling was not pitch black as it usually was, but swirling with blues and reds. It was a galactic mixture of vibrant colours which emitted a calming presence.

By really noticing the details, you could tell that the castle was preparing for _something_.

"Surely they won't let students participate? It hasn't happened in decades," Theodore said.

Daphne, who had been listening, said: "there's bound to be enchantments so that it's not fatal. I mean half of us are still underage."

"What good would a tournament be if there wasn't danger?" I replied. "It'd be like entering a playground."

Sybil nodded. "If you're right about it, Malfoy, then I'm not participating. Mother used to tell me that so many students die in sport events. That's why I'm not allowed to join Quidditch."

"You do _not_ die in Quidditch," I snorted. "Not if you're a good player, anyway."

"So, should we expect the end of you this year, Weasle-Bee?" Malfoy snickered with Pansy and Blaise.

"Malfoy, you nearly died after seeing a hippogriff last year," I deadpanned. His smile dropped and he went pale; having post-war flashbacks to his traumatic experience. "Forgive me if I don't believe the bawling likes of you."

"That thing nearly killed me."

"It broke your hand because you got too close. I would've done the same. Get a grip on yourself." The Care of Magical Creatures lesson had been a marvellous one. I'd never laughed so hard as he quivered back up to the castle. Even visiting him as he blubbered in the hospital bed, the giggles never stopped. "Anyway," I said. "Why have you been spoiling the surprise for everyone?"

The ill look on his face disappeared. "Oh, I've been waiting for the right time," he replied.

"That's now, is it? Couldn't you have let Dumbledore announce it?"

"He'd get all of the attention."

I rolled my eyes dramatically and my gaze landed upon a red blob appearing through the doors to the Great Hall. Peeves the Poltergeist flew coltishly near the candles. His bell-covered hat tinkled over the talking pupils below. In his hands was a large, red water balloon.

"Oh," the noise escaped my lips before I could stop it. Malfoy, who'd been watching me, turned and looked.

Peeves dropped the balloon and it landed on Ron's head, exploding water in every direction. My twin's voice cried out and then he stood up suddenly with sodden robes.

Malfoy let out an obnoxious laugh and the table all looked, beginning to laugh. Suddenly, the joke subsided when they realised more balloons were being catapulted around the room. People had no where to go, it was a cramped room so many just covered themselves with their robes.

One shot just over my head, scarcely missing my hair and landed against the stone wall. Peeves the Poltergeist was a devilishly annoying being at Hogwarts.

"Ooooo!" he cried, followed by evil cackling: "ickle firsties!"

Daphne cowered against the table, shielding her long straight hair.

"Salazar's spit!" Millicent Bulstrode blubbered. She was sat next to Pansy. "If he comes near my new robes... I'll kill that foul thing!"

I usually would've corrected that statement, reminding Millicent that Peeves was neither alive or dead. He existed in a corporeal state, able to drift into the land of living whenever he so please. However, it would have been amusing to see Millicent attempting to murder Peeves and failing.

Peeves enjoyed havoc. He swooped and swerved around the hall as professors rose form their chairs, their wands out.

"Can't catch me! Can't catch me!" he guffawed.

"Hey, look!" a first year cried, pointing at the stained-glass window. "It's the Bloody Baron!"

The ghoulish sight of Slytherin's ghost nearly sucked the soul from my body. His face was murderous, eyes wide with hatred and his chains rattling furiously. Usually, ghosts floated through the air as if always in a stream of gentleness. However, he swooped through the door and took ahold of Peeves' pointy ears.

"AAAAH!" he cried.

"Get him out of here!" McGonagall cried, straightening her pointed hat. Dumbledore had returned to the hall and was watching the scene unfold in silence. His eyes twinkled behind his half-mooned spectacles.

The Baron gracefully nodded, snapping out of his fiery state for a single moment. Then he looked back at the poltergeist and rattled it like a rag doll.

"If you ever disobey the council again Peeves, I will lock you in the dungeons!" he barked, dragging the fiend from the Hall.

"So much excitement!" Dumbledore said pleasantly in the, now, quiet hall. His arms were wide with welcome. "I have only two words to say to you. Tuck in!"

Steaming bowls and plates covered the table. Goblets of juice in boar-shaped decanters lined the middle. Pouring pumpkin juice into my cup, I took a sip and piled my plate.

It reminded me of the burrow; so much food adorning the dinner table. With the first bite, I groaned in delight, the flavours were exquisite and seemed to wrap together as if done with magic. Mum's ability to mirror the taste using herbs and spices should've won an award. Despite the fruitful bounty, my manners were never lost. Unlike some...

"Pass us the Yorkshire puddings!" Goyle spat at Crabbe, food flicked onto Theodore's plate.

"How many?" Crabbe replied. The oaf asked for three pieces, to which Crabbe threw at him. A part of me was surprised Goyle hadn't caught them with his mouth.

For the rest of dinner, no one spoke much. We were all too hungry to engage in much conversation. I wanted to get to Dumbledore's announcement already and find out what the carriage and ship had to do with the Triwizard Tournament. As Sybil as said earlier, I would not be entering.

Chewing on some roast beef, I looked to the Gryffindor tables and spotted bright ginger heads. Fred and George were facing me, whilst I could only see Ron's back. Mum was right; he did need a haircut.

Rain drummed against the window behind me. It pattered the dark glass soothingly. If it were not for the chocolate gateau I was indulged with, I'd feel sleepy again. Lightning flashed, illuminating the Slytherin's plate for a moment. There was a clap of thunder in the far distance.

"I'd hate to be a ghost," Theodore said, his mouth full of cake. "Can you imagine not being able to eat ever again?"

I grinned and continued chewing.

Pudding demolished, crumbs gone and plates now sparkling-clean, Dumbledore rose to his feet again. Quiet chatter desisted. I looked in wonder at how he was able to compel a room in mere seconds.

"Now that we are all fed and settled, I must ask for attention while I give a few notices," he said with a smile. Filch's list of queries was long this year: forbidden objects, rooms and floors. A product mentioned were screaming yo-yos, a product Fred and George had been testing last year. I attempted to suppress my knowing smirk.

Suddenly, there was a rumble of thunder the Great Hall doors were swung open. A man stood, leaning on a long staff in a black travelling cloak. He was sodden, dripping rain water onto the floor.

I craned my neck, getting a better look at him as he clunked through the middle of the hall. When he lowered his hood, it revealed a long mane of grizzled, grey hair.

Dumbledore reached for his outstretched hand and shook it. The man turned, glaring at every pair of eyes staring at him. My mouth dropped open.

Lightning flashed his face, emphasising the carved flesh and scarred cheek. One of his eyes was a beady, tiny thing and the other, inside an eyepatch. It swivelled around uncontrollably, not blinking and then rolled back so we couldn't see the pupil anymore.

The man sat down gracelessly, the chair creaked with his weight.

"May I introduce our New Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher!" said Dumbledore, smiling brightly. "Professor Moody."

Dad had helped Mad-Eye Moody yesterday. After being attacked, or spooked by something in his garden he'd called for backup. He was one of the most famous Aurors of all time.

"That's Mad-Eye Moody," I muttered to Daphne and Sybil. "He's an Auror."

"Look at his face," Daphne whispered back, her eyes wide with fascination. "What happened to him?"

"Dad said he'd been attacked before. Evan Rosier I think it was."

Moody's eye still moved around the room relentlessly. It moved up and down each table, when it hovered over Slytherin and reached me, a shiver ran up my spine. Perhaps I looked like Dad and he recognised me. As he lifted his arm up to drink from his flask, I saw a wooden leg exposed and a clawed foot.

"Maybe he's an alcoholic." Daphne spotted.

Moody shivered as he lowered the flask. I looked away. "S'pose you'd need to be after years of whatever he's been through."

Dumbledore coughed loudly, shutting the hall's whispers up again. "As I was saying, he said with a smile, "we are to have the honour of hosting a very exciting event over the coming month, an event that has not been held in over a century."

Malfoy was already shooting me a smug look when I glanced at him. I hated when he was right.

Dumbledore continued: "It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year. The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving soon with their impartial judge who will decide who is worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money."

"I'm going for it," said Malfoy immediately, his voice carried down the table with enthusiasm. He was not alone in saying so. Across the hall, I recognised Fred's voice loudly boasting about the prizes.

"People die, Dorko," I hissed at Malfoy, the only person close enough for me to snap at.

"How could I miss the chance for glory?"

The hall fell silent. Dumbledore continued: "if chosen, you stand alone. These contests are not for the faint hearted."

"Not for you then, grease-ball." I glared at Malfoy who returned the look venomously.

Dumbledore reeled off more information about the tournament. We have several weeks before the students off of the ship and carriage would be introduced to us. They were on education leave to explore the United Kingdom and would enter Hogwarts in October.

Thankfully, Quidditch hadn't been cancelled either. Along with the Cup champion there would be a House one. Winning both would give Malfoy a seizure. However, I did want Slytherin to win this year. Over the summer I'd practised my beating skills and was ready to get out on the field.

"Right off to bed, now! Chop chop!" Dumbledore bid farewell to us. He took a seat beside Mad-Eye Moody and began a deep conversation with him. I'd have to ask Dad what temperament our new Dark Arts teacher possessed. How far could I push the boundary this year?

First years left the hall before the rest of us. The Blood Baron had returned to escort Slytherins back to the Common Room. He was dragging his chains through the air, his face brooding with sadness.

"What did you do with Peeves?" a first year asked him.

"That insolent little creature," he cursed. "I've locked him in the dungeon for the time being. There was nearly no feast at all!"

"Why?" I asked, aware of how late our dinner had been.

"Barrelling through he kitchens like a headless chicken. Throwing plates, cauldrons, bowls all over the place. The elves were nearly scolded!" said the Baron, shaking his head as he glided through the table. Several students nearly choked at the feeling of a ghost in their bones.

I turned around to focus on him as he hovered just above the ground. "Did he want to join the feast again?"

"Oh, yes. We held a council, but I put my foot down."

Theodore snorted quietly. "That being you could with living force," he snickered.

After the first years had left the hall with Slytherin prefects and the Baron, there was a great scraping of chairs and banging as all of us got to our feet. My group of four, including Theodore sometimes, joined the swarm of students.

The castle was just as I remembered it. With moving stairwells, ghosts and paintings everywhere, it was a visual toy-shop. The only moving painting we had on the wall at the Burrow was one of Uncle Julius, who preferred nudity most of the time.

I didn't see my brothers again after leaving the hall. A part of me wanted to ask Fred and George about the tournament. However, by telling them _not_ to do something, they'd want to do it more. I imagined Ronald would want to compete as well. Stupidity was not genetic; I'd have to speak to him too.

As we began the descent into the lower part of the castle, I asked Daphne: "so where's Durmstrang?"

"I think it's up north somewhere. It's got a horrible reputation for their student's brutality."

"Where exactly up north? It does ring a bell," I said vaguely.

"No clue. Schools like Durmstrang and Beauxbaton like to keep their whereabouts secret so they're not seen as weak or exposed." said Daphne as we walked through a concealed door behind a tapestry and started walking down a set of stairs.

Goblets of flickering flames lined the walls as we descended below ground level. The temperature should've dropped, but the castle remained as cosy as ever.

Continuing our discussion of magical schools, we spoke about how muggles viewed Hogwarts from the outside. Neither of us had ever seen it before, only heard stories. Apparently muggles viewed it as a decaying castle, crumbling against the side of a field. If I saw that, I'd wonder what glorious treasures were hidden away and earn a name for my exploratory-self.

"Piss off!" Tracey Davis shouted ahead of us.

We had entered the dungeons, where the walls were lined with tapestries that hid cells. Tracey was screaming at an exposed cell. As we neared, we discovered it was Peeves the Poltergeist. He fluttered against the cell bars like a trapped bird; a grotesque, rotting bird.

"Let ickle Peevsie out, Weasle," he mockingly sobbed, holding out a greyish hand. "Greenie, unlock the door for me?"

Daphne took hold of my arm and yanked me past the blubbering ghoul. He continued crying, calling out to all of the students for help. There was no way I would open the door the Bloody Baron had locked.

Screams echoed down the corridor. We turned and watched as Peeves began hacking phlegm and then lobbing it at students. Parkinson was in the line of fire and a piece slobbered her straight in the eye. An unholy screech came from her.

Daphne started giggling and I couldn't help but join in.

Theodore, who begun running and had caught up to us, was roaring with laughter. He adjusted his wide-brimmed glasses and hair so they were neat again.

"Get that door open!" a third year cried, hurtling past the cell. Dozens of Slytherins scurried like rats towards us, half of them covered in spit.

"Anguis!" I cried through tears. The snakes unravelled over the Slytherin crest, slithering into holes in the frame. Rising into the ceiling, the stone door disappeared and we hurried inside so we weren't flattened.

Among those in our year caught by Peeves distasteful pranks was Zabini, Bullstrode and Goyle. They stumbled into the common room, wiping their faces wildly and gagging with disgust.

"For some, it's an improvement!" Theodore snorted.

"You can put lipstick on a pig but it'll still be a pig," I said, eyeing Parkinson with a sneer. Malfoy suddenly barrelled into the room, a murderous look on his face. Spit slobbered his white fringe and I turned red with joy. "Oh this is going to be a marvellous year already!" Daphne, Theodore and didn't stop laughing until we reached our dormitories.

* * *

 **a/n -** the inter-house quidditch cup didn't happen in the goblet of fire book, but as it is part of Emelia's journey through Hogwarts, it will continue in this fan fiction.

 **BohemianBadger:** thank you for taking the time to review the story, I really appreciate it. I am so pleased you understand Emelia's character already! Thank you x

 **thereviewer:** thank you for your comment, i have taken it into consideration and will make changes to Emelia so I don't ruin the story with Mary-Sue'ness x


	4. Bowtruckles and Bitterness

_Hold fast to dreams,_  
 _For if dreams die_  
 _Life is a broken-winged bird,_  
 _That cannot fly._

 _– Langston Hughes_

* * *

 **Four – Bowtruckles and Bitterness**

* * *

"She's rather decent company when she's got her blower shut," Daphne sighed to Sybil. Their voices carried in the soft, post-storm air.

"The ghastly exterior is still painful," Sybil commented, if not a little loudly. While my hair was flaming red, it was also an unruly mess. I had Mum to thank for that. Ginny had mastered the art of styling the fierce ginger locks into sleek straight pieces.

Cracking an eye open, I saw my friends eyeing me. "I'm just gonna annoy you both more now."

As I looked up, I saw the sheer grey sky; a single cloud.

"I never doubted you wouldn't," Daphne said. We leaned against the enormous pumpkins accumulating the vegetable patch in front of Hagrid's hut. Snails slithered over the orange veg, I placed a finger in front of one and picked it up gently.

"Hey, Sybil," I said, jabbing the creature in front of her face. She squealed, nearly knocking it flying. Coaxing the shelly animal to my chest, I gave it a pitiful look. "Was the big, bad Slytherin mean to you?"

"They're disgusting. You know I have a phobia, Emelia."

Lifting the snail to my eye level, I continued my baby voice. Its little head appeared from the shell as a murky green blob. "Oh, you're so pretty. Yes, you are. Sybil's just jealous."

"Hardly," Sybil scoffed, crossing her arms.

Gentle wind blew through my robes and swooped up leaves. Noel and the other pets were up in our dormitory, probably not fans of the muddy grounds. Hagrid had also said it was best if we didn't have any other creatures hanging about today. That meant we were studying a predator.

Swallows tweeted on the roof of the Hut. Hopping into a nest burrowed into one of the tiles. The peaceful placement of Hagrid's home was what I loved the most about the professor. It wasn't extravagant, it was what he enjoyed and I respected him for it.

The majority of the Slytherin House, not so much.

"Talking to yourself again, Weasle?" the Bristolian nasal voice of Pansy Parkinson appeared. She was stood next to a wooden table which had been laid out by Hagrid. Beside her stood Malfoy, Blaise and the two pillocks (Crabbe and Goyle).

"For someone who calls Potter _specky_ every day, you sure do need a pair of glasses yourself," I said coldly.

She narrowed her eyes, looking like an agitated toad. "By the way, any of your blood-traitor brothers putting their names in for the tournament? The death toll in those games... what a beautiful sight that would be to behold."

Lowering my hands so the snail could crawl away, I used the other one to grasp my wand and raise it, flexing my fingers around the hilt. The end was staring her in the face. Not that she'd have one left once I was through with it.

Malfoy crossed his arms, tilting his head to the side. "Lay off it, Weasley. You'll just get yourself in detention."

"No she won't." Pansy snickered. "Hagrid adores blood-traitors."

"Shut up, Parkinson." I hissed, sensing Daphne straighten up. "Shut up, or I will shut your fat mouth for you."

"Can't use your wand? It's a secondhand one, isn't it? Please, do your worst when even your wand can't stand you."

It used to belong to Bill, I'd tried keep it a secret and stupidly trusted Flora Carrow in second year. She's blabbered to Millicent Bullstrode, who clearly told Pansy like a devious game of Chinese Whispers. My cheeks flared red and I raised the wand higher. "It may not be mine, but my magic is stronger than yours. Seventh daughters are born stronger, or did you not pay attention in McGonagall's class?"

"Do your worst," she sneered.

Bluffing could only take you so far. The beechwood and kelpie hair wand was terrible at harnessing my magic. Eleven year old me and six year Bill had tried _Accio_ and _Expelliarmus_ so the wand would change master. However, it never felt right between my fingers. I sensed its yearning for Bill. If I were to hex Pansy, Salazar knows _what_ would start growing _where_.

To my advantage, Pansy looked nervous. She had her own hand in her robe and was leaning back, as if centimetres could stop me locking my hands around her throat.

 _CLANG_. _CLANG_. _CLANG_.

The great booming bell for the start of class echoed from the castle. With a jump, I realised my heart was racing. Sweat coated my palm and as I turned back to Pansy, I lowered my wand.

"'Melia Weasley are yer duelling in my class?" Hagrid walked out of the Forbidden Forest, his half-giant feet stomping on the ground. With his thick west-country accent, he never pronounce the 'E' in my name, but it had become a nice nickname.

"Just teaching a lesson, Professor," I said as I put my wand away. With a moleskin overcoat and Fang at his heels, Hagrid walked through the Slytherin bunch, dispiriting the hate-filled tension.

All of the Slytherins were ready for the lesson to begin, despite it being Hagrid's. There were a few Gryffindors loitering around, but most were ambling down the sloping lawn. Ron was one, sticking out like a thorn. It was the hair.

As he neared, he nudged my shoulder and asked what my sour face was doing constantly tattooed to my face.

"The usual," I muttered. "Something about hoping Fred and George die in the tournament." Ron's face went dark. "Don't. I handled it."

"Don't your friends say anything? Fat lot of good they are."

"I don't need people fighting my battles for me, Ron," I hissed. "The only way I've earned the respect I have is from my self-righteousness. Don't say a word."

Ron glanced at Malfoy's group. His tongue clicked in his mouth, debating my words. The Slytherins caught his eye and began murmuring to themselves.

"Get lost before they try something," I nudged him with a smile. "Go on. Tell Granger about the house-elf situation at Hogwarts or something."

"Oh, she already knows. Should've seen her face, she didn't eat for two days."

Laughing, I imagined the frown and frizzy hair making a humorous sight. "I take it she _had_ to eat today?"

"It was the croissants and melted butter."

"Absolute heaven," I nearly groaned. That was definitely on the to-do-list tomorrow morning. Ron chuckled back to his trio, bursting into a new set of chortles when Hermione found out.

"Everyone gather 'round the table!" Hagrid called. "That's it – makes sure yeh can see – tiny things they are – Patil there's room ther' – Finnigan – spot here for yer."

"Thats my foot!" Goyle cawed at a Parvati.

Gryffindors and Slytherins in confined spaces was always a terrible idea. Settled between Daphne and Crabbe, I noticed Hagrid was covered in tiny green sticks and they were _moving_.

We weren't studying predators, we were studying creatures so tiny and delicate that the outside world didn't deserve to know they existed.

"Bowtruckles..." I said in awe. Hagrid smiled brightly, using his abnormally large hands to pluck them off of his jacket. The half-giant was surprisingly gentle as he lowered each one onto the oak table.

"Stick-insects!" gasped Lavender Brown. "We have these in my back-garden!"

Sybil let out a sigh of disappointment, "Salazar..."

Wanting to roll my eyes to the back of my head, I told her pointedly: "Lavender, they're bowtruckles not stick-insects. Secondly, they're definitely not from your back garden, they live in Scandinavian forests." Daphne was giving me a look to not nit-pick too much as the Gryffindor could be sensitive. Still, she was pure-blood, she was meant to know the difference between a mundane animal and a magical one.

Lavender's shoulders slumped a little. "Oh," she said.

"Not that you could've known the difference," I suddenly blurted. "I mean, they're the same colour." She blinked at me and then to the little animals. Daphne gave me a disappointed look.

"You're a tragedy sometimes," She deadpanned.

With all of the bowtruckles scampering around the table, Hagrid took out a jar of dead woodlice from his deep coat pocket.

"Bowtruckles!" Hagrid said joyfully, opening his arms as if he were displaying a prize. "Also known as tree guard'ns. They live in the forests we ge' yer wands from!"

Stretching a finger hesitantly, I introduced a bowtruckle to my presence. It was dark green and lanky, with beady eyes and a tiny mouth. There were only a few of them, they were endangered due to illegal trading for their magic abilities.

"If threatn'ed, they'll bite yer fingers off. We're gonna use woodlice and give 'em a little hold. In group o' three if yer can so we don't overcrowd 'em. " Hagrid passed the jar around the group. Student tipped out a handful of the dead food pieces whilst others decided which bowtruckle to hold.

Daphne crouched with Sybil, who kept her hands tightly bound to her chest. Over the edge of the table, she watched with disgusted, blue eyes.

The bowtruckle was a curious critter, crawling on all fours as it neared Daphne's outstretched fingers. Against the dark oak, its bright body was magnetic to watch.

"It's going to eat the woodlice, Emelia!" Daphne whispered in a screech. "He know who's boss."

Rising onto two legs, the bowtruckle took the insect and clambered up onto Daphne's fingers like a monkey. It seated itself in her palm and began chewing the head of the woodlice.

"Good. Tha's good, class." Hagrid clapped. "Let's win a few House points! What's a group of bowtruckles called?"

Granger's hand shot up, but my fat mouth was open. "A branch, Professor!" I said pridefully.

"Five point ter' Slytherin! Hand up nex' time, 'Melia."

Daphne was giddy with the attention from our bowtruckles, it wasn't often she was relaxed and missing her usual poise. She had entranced another one into climbing atop her hand and offered me the first one.

"Hey, little guy," I cooed and smoothly offered some woodlouse. Up close, the fine lines on his body were visible. Just like the prints on our hands, his skin was covered in swirling patterns.

Hagrid carried on asking questions and Slytherin won five more points, Gryffindor won ten with Granger nearly snapping her arm off each time.

"Ow!" Crabbe howled, flapping like a bird. I moved out of the way with a sinister glare.

"Mind where you fling yourself, Crabbe!"

"It bit me!"

"Maybe if you didn't grab it like it was the last sausage roll it wouldn't have!"

Pansy huffed, putting her hands on her hips. "Where's it gone?"

Sybil, who'd been watching from afar, looked around wildly. "You lost it?" she asked in a high-pitched tone.

"Crabbe tossed it somewhere!"

I hushed the bowtruckle in my hand, feeding it some more grub-goodness.

"It's a living creature, you oaf. You've injured it now," I snapped.

"Let's see yours, then." Pansy ordered, walking towards me and past Crabbe. I looked at the ground, wondering if she was stomping on the lost bowtruckle.

"Get stuffed," I told her.

"Give me the bowtruckle, Weasley. Or I will take it."

Daphne had noticed that the creature in my hand could sense my rising heart-rate, my sweaty skin and shallow breathing. The bowtruckle dropped the woodlice and began climbing up my fingers. It hung on the tip and bore its teeth.

"Pansy, it'll hurt you," Daphne warned. "Look at it!"

"They're just bugs. What is a mouse to a boot?" She said, sneering at the bowtruckle.

"I'm getting flashbacks, pug-face. You're all talk, just like Malfoy was with that hippogriff. All that talk pouring out of your ginormous gob until you get what's coming for you." I backed up further, feeling the bowtruckle's movements becoming more desperate.

"Give it to me!" she demanded and lunged forwards.

The bowtruckle lobbed itself from my fingers. I tried to grab it, but with a twisting body, it slipped through my other hand and landed on the top of Pansy's hair. She screeched, grappling her head.

The bowtruckle pulled and knotted Pansy's bob-cut. Swooping beneath her hands and making a painful mess. Malfoy saved the day, coaxing the creature out of her hair and onto his shoulder. He cast a spell to untangle her hair and after several moments she was back to her hideous self.

"Can I have my bowtruckle back?" I asked him. He shook his head and tilted his hair so the animal had a bit more room to escalade around the back of his neck. "I don't know if you saw your girlfriend wailing like a banshee, but the bowtruckle attacks my enemies."

"It's a forest-dweller, it has no enemies," he replied. "Besides, I think he analysed how much you really like me and decided I'm not an enemy."

"His senses were clogged by Parkinson's foul attitude."

Wiggling his eyebrows at me, he lifted a woodlice and coaxed the bowtruckle from behind his ear. It hung on the cartilage and munched pleasantly.

"Okay, class! Start o' term essay. Four pages on bowtruckles in ther' wand-makin' indus'ry!" Hagrid ordered loudly. We began putting our things away, ushering any remaining woodlice pieces back into the jar. The bowtruckles were handed back to Hagrid, who had named each one.

Leaping into the nooks and crannies of his coat, they snuggled as if they were home. I looked around again for the missing one.

"Anyon' seen Arnie?" Hagrid asked, his eyes as round as saucers. "We're missin' one."

Crabbe put his head down and carried on up to the castle with the other Slytherins. Daphne and Sybil shot me a look to keep it shut. I looked away and went to the Professor.

"Sir," I said. "One of the students panicked and knocked him off of his shoulder. It was an accident."

"Oh, uh, really? Oh dear, oh dear," he repeated, crest-fallen. "Arnie was our younges'."

"I can look after class later? Or put a notice up in the common room?"

"Nah, s' no use. He'll go back inte' the woods. Los' forever."

"Or use a trap? A safe one with lots of woodlouse and crickets. I'm sure he'll be hungry, Hagrid."

The gentle giant looked up from the ground and nodded. "Yer righ'. O' course!"

Smiling, I stepped back and hoisted my bag onto my shoulder. Books stashed away and ready for Herbology with the Ravenclaws.

"Ge' on with yer now, 'Melia. Go on," Hagrid waved his hand. "Thank yer for stayin'."

Walking back up the slipper pathway, I ran into Daphne. She'd walked slowly, trying to avoid being a loiterer around Hagrid's Hut. Sybil was no where in sight.

"You could've lost us points, Emelia," Daphne said.

"I didn't mention Crabbe's name, if you must know. I told Hagrid it was an accident."

"Hhmph," she crossed her arms and we walked to Herbology together.

The lesson was full of puffapod deseeding. Using round-edged knives, they cut into the shining pods and emptied the insides into a bucket. Flora Carrow had a lot of Slytherin gossip to spill, so the lesson was full of giggling and laughter.

After Professor Sprout dismissed us, we talked all the way out of the greenhouses and up to the castle. Flora was explaining in extreme detail what her and Millicent Bullstrode had got up to over the summer. Daphne couldn't stop snorting. I turned beetroot red.

Rounding the corner to the entrance hall, we joined the line of students ready for dinner. In front of us was Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, all looking smug as they read a newspaper. I'd been free of their chatter for a whole hour. Luck was never on my side.

"Oh, Weasley. Perfect," Goyle guffawed unattractively.

"Look, sitting at opposite ends of the classroom makes you miss my marvellous personality, but you don't need to be so needy about it," I said shortly.

"You wish." He brandished the paper smugly. "Your father's in the paper, Weasley. Come have a look."

Grabbing the Daily Prophet from his fat hands, I read the article:

 _FURTHER MISTAKES AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC_

 _'It seems as though the Ministry of Magic's troubles are not yet at an end. Recently under fire for its poor crowd control at the Quidditch World Cup, and still unable to account for the disappearance of one of its witches, the Ministry was plunged into fresh embarrassment yesterday by the antics of Arnold Weasley, of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office.'_

My face was burning. That stupid bitch, Rita Skeeter, hadn't even spelt my father's name correctly.

 _'Arnold Weasley, who was charged with possession of a flying car two years ago, was yesterday involved in a tussle with several Muggle law-keepers over a number of highly aggressive dustbins. Mr. Weasley appears to have rushed to the aid of "Mad-Eye" Moody, the ages ex-Auror who retired from the Ministry when no longer able to tell the difference between a handshake and attempted murder. Unsurprisingly, Mr. Weasley found, upon arrival at Mr. Moody's heavily guarded house, that Mr. Moody had once again raised a false alarm. Mr. Weasley was forced to modify several memories before he could escape the policemen, but refused to answer Daily Prophet questions about why he had involved the Ministry in such an indignified and potentially embarrassing scene.'_

Underneath the article was a picture. My parents stood happily, gently smiling at one another and the looking at the camera, at me. Behind them was the Burrow, tall against the cloudless sky. Only the grass fields were visible, not the sheep nor the chickens. The farm jokes would've been ten times worse.

I suppressed my anger deep inside of my chest, knowing it would help no one if I acted like a wilderbeast. After several moments of pretending to read, I exhaled calmly and closed the paper. When I bought my eyes to Goyle's face, there was an itch to slap the shit-eating grin off of it.

"What's funny about it?" I asked, waning boredom.

He sniggered, jabbing a grubby finger at the Prophet. "They didn't even spell his name right!"

"Did you read this? Or did Drakie have to do it for you?" I said icily, handing it back to him. "I mean, you can't even spell your own name when theirs was clearly a typo. The entire paper is written correctly. Or can't you tell since you can hardly read the ingredients on a bottle of water?"

Crabbe snorted. "The photo, Weasle. You live in a pigsty. How can you afford to dress? I wouldn't show my face with a house like that."

Malfoy's smirk was still shining on his face, not as bold as before. Perhaps he enjoyed allowing his minions to take reign. I snapped my eyes back to the two talking gorillas.

"Am I naked? Have you ever seen me without clothes on?" They blinked. "Well, clearly I can afford to dress or my Crown Jewels would be plastered all over that page and not my father's work endeavours!" I hissed, hatred leaking out. "The three of you have about as much imagination as a tea cosy."

Malfoy opened his mouth, but then his eyes switched to someone behind me. I turned and saw my twin, walking with Potter and Hermione. I heard Malfoy moving excitedly behind me already and as assumed, the paper was in his hands when I looked back.

Flora had an idle, bored look on her face beside me. Indifferent to the jests and only bothered about dinner. Daphne was chewing her bottom lip aggressively.

"Weasley!" Malfoy cried. Dramatically opening the Prophet again, now with the attention of the entire entrance hall. "Oi! Weasley! Your father's in the paper!"

Everyone turned, focusing on the blond bint. It was easier for me to ignore their stares. Ronald, however, was more concerned with his reputation unlike me.

Ignoring everyone's stares was easier for me than it was for Ronald. My brother approached with an apprehensive look, glancing at me for an answer.

"Just ignore it, Ron–." I started.

"Oh, no. You've had your turn with it," Malfoy interrupted, turning back to my brother. "Listen to this!" He began reading the article loudly, uncaring for the crowd that were gathering.

"...By the antics of Arnold Weasley – _get off of me_!" I lunged at him, ripping the paper out of his hands. Well, half of the paper. It was cut into two and I continued ripping up my half like a brutal madwoman.

"You're a damn animal, Weasley!" Malfoy snapped, lowering his hands.

"Oi!" Ron started, I raised a hand to silence him.

"You're a cruel, cold-hearted bastard, Malfoy," I sneered, stepping forward.

"Touchy subject, is it? Does that Slytherin pride include pigs?"

"That Slytherin pride will end up knocking your teeth out."

Malfoy's cool grey eyes snapped to Ron. "You never saw the photo, did you? Your mother could do with losing a bit of weight, couldn't she?"

"Emelia, don't," Daphne hissed down my ear. However, Ron was already letting loose for me.

"Get fucked, Malfoy," he spat, shaking with fury. Everyone in the gathered crowd were staring.

Harry Potter crept into view, next to my brother. "C'mon, Ron."

"Oh yeah, you were staying with them this summer, weren't you, Potter?" sneered Malfoy. "So tell me, is mother Weasley really that porky, or is it just the picture?"

"You know your mother, Malfoy?" said Harry, "that expression she's got, like she's always smelling shit? Has she always looked like that, or was it just because you were with her?"

I hadn't realised I was holding onto Ron's sleeve until he'd used his clammy hand to remove it. His face was bright red, his chest heaving up and down with hatred.

Malfoy's pale face went slightly pink. "Don't you dare insult my mother, Potter."

"Keep your fat mouth shut, then," said Harry. He dragged my brother away, who shot me a look full of unresolved disgust. Maybe he was hoping I'd still punch Malfoy for us both.

Revenge from my part was not meant to be.

The next few moment shot past in a blur of blinding white light. Firstly, Malfoy took out his wan and aimed it at the back of Potter's head. Ron's was dangerously close to it and without hesitating, I knocked Malfoy's arm violently.

BANG!

The spell narrowly missed Harry's head, shooting just across his ear and cracking the stone step. Just above, was Professor Mad-Eye Moody. His wand was out, pointed at Malfoy. Limping madly down the stairs, the crutch clank, clank, clanked...

"Oh, no you don't, laddie!" his voice crackled.

BANG!

I spun around. Malfoy was gone and there was a clatter of his wand and bag. On the stone-flagged floor beneath my feet was a pure white ferret. Its legs were sprawled out and it began releasing squeak noises.

"Malfoy!" Goyle cried. My hand went to my mouth, unsure whether to laugh or simply stare.

"LEAVE IT!" Moody shouted.

"Don't Goyle," I ordered, stepping aside for Moody to punish Malfoy further. The professors wooden leg hitting the floor vibrated through the stone and the ferret appeared to sense its oncoming doom.

Releasing a petrified yelp, it took off towards the dungeons.

"I don't think so!" roared Moody, pointing his wand at the ferret again - it flew ten feet into the air, fell with a smack to the floor, and then bounced upward once more.

"Salazar!" Flora cried. Part of me was amused, the other couldn't quite grasp the fact that it wasn't technically a real animal.

"I don't like people who attack when their opponent's back's turned," growled Moody as the Malfoy bounced higher and higher, squealing in pain. "Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do..."

The ferret flew through the air, its legs and tail flailing helplessly."Never - do - that - again -" said Moody, speaking each word as the ferret hit the stone floor and bounced upward again. "Professor Moody!" said a shocked voice.

Professor McGonagall was coming down the marble staircase with her arms full of books.

"Hello, Professor McGonagall," said Moody calmly, bouncing the ferret still higher.

"What - what are you doing?" said Professor McGonagall, her eyes following the bouncing ferret's progress through the air.

"Teaching," said Moody.

"Teach - Moody, is that a student?" shrieked Professor McGonagall, the books spilling out of her arms.

"Yep," said Moody.

"Professor!" cried Professor McGonagall, running down the stairs and pulling out her wand; a moment later, with a loud snapping noise, Malfoy had reappeared, lying in a heap on the floor.

His white hair was all over his face, pointing in odd directions instead of brushed down. It illuminated his bright red cheeks.

"Moody, we never use Transfiguration as a punishment!" said Professor McGonagall wealdy. "Surely Professor Dumbledore told you that?"

"He might've mentioned it, yeah," said Moody, scratching his chin unconcernedly, "but I thought a good sharp shock –"

"We give detentions, Moody! Or speak to the offender's Head of House!" "I'll do that, then," said Moody, staring at Malfoy with great dislike.

Malfoy clambered to his feet, eyes watering with pain and humiliation. A grin threatened to turn up my lips. Malfoy shot Moody a a malevolent look and muttered: "stupid fool. My father will hear about this and then you'll be sorry."

"Oh yeah?" said Moody suddenly, limping forward a few paces, the dull clunk of his wooden leg echoing around the hall. "Well, I know your father of old, boy... You tell him Moody's keeping a close eye on his son. . . you tell him that from me... Now, your Head of House'll be Snape, will it?"

Malfoy did not answer, only his grey eyes snapped between each one of Moody's.

"Yes, is it, Professor," Ron said diligently.

"Another old friend," growled Moody. "I've been looking forward to a chat with old Snape. Come with me."

And he seized Malfoy's upper arm and marched him off toward the dungeons. Malfoy allowed Moody to man-handle him, not changing the look of distaste, but not leaning away to send a message of severe dislike.

The gathered crowd diffused rather quickly. Crabbe and Goyle didn't stick around for much longer, not thinking twice between following Lord Malfoy or eating. I watched them hurry into the hall, their stomachs rumbling.

On the ground, in disregarded heaps, lay Malfoy's wand and his book-bag. Oh joy! Sticking them down the loo? Flinging them into the Black Lake? Attaching them to an owl to go who-knows where? Maybe I should get Fred and George to help.

Giddy, I picked up the sleek wand and held it in my hands. It was black at the handle, growing into dark brown near the end. Must be Hawthorn Wood.

"Oh, Miss Weasley, how kind of you," McGonagall said closely. "Return Draco Malfoy his things. I'm sure you'll catch up to him before he's with Professor Snape."

"Professor!" Kind? When was I kind to a prat like Malfoy? "He's just insulted my father. You can't expect me–"

"Oh, I can, Weasley. Hate does not warrent hate," she quipped.

"Warrents a good arse-kicking..." I muttered, twirling the wand between my fingers.

"I'll save you a seat?" Daphne offered.

"You won't come with me?"

"Salazar, no. I've already walked through the castle thrice today."

I shot her a dirty look and she disappeared through the open hall doors, flicking her long, black hair. Flora began animatedly talking about her endeavours. "Lazy cows."

"Can I snap it?" Ron asked. From his bright red cheeks and gigantic smile, I could tell he'd been laughing the entire time. Granger and Potter were still sniggering. I held the wand out to my brother. "Be my guest."

Professor McGonagall coughed behind my twin and we both glanced at her. Defeat was imminent.

"Maybe next time," I said to Ron, who shrugged. Putting the wand in my robes, I hoisted the heavy bag on my shoulder and started for the dungeons.

As I reached Snape's office, I found his door was ajar. Snape and Moody were nowhere to be seen. Inside was Malfoy, slumped in a chair in front of Snape's grand desk. From the back, I could tell he'd attempted to re-adjust his messy hair.

"Wallowing in self-pity?" I asked.

A scoff befell him and he didn't bother turning around. "You wish."

"Where's Snape?"

"Moody left me here. He's gone to find him."

"And you haven't planned to make a run for it? I doubt Moody can run far."

"He walked quicker than me down the dungeon stairs. Nearly broke my neck."

I sighed, looking around the vacant room as if Snape would appear out of nowhere. "Well, McGonagall made me bring this to you. I was thinking about snapping your wand in two."

He eyed it hesitantly and leaned back in his chair. I rolled my eyes and thrust it forward. "I'm not standing here for my health," I snapped.

"You've done something to it." Malfoy accused slowly. "It's going to explode or bite me."

Rolling my eyes, I half-lowered his belongings. "Now, why would I want to hurt a pretty little hair on your head?"

"Pretty?" He repeated with a sly smirk. "You think I'm pretty?"

Tired from the Weasley-bashing I'd received all day, the name-calling and interruptions to my learning, I scoffed. "You... You are _detestable_ , Malfoy."

"And pretty."

"Stop being a prat. You're still sweating, I can see pit stains." He pulled his robes over himself more, clearly uncomfortable after his transformation. I closed my eyes and smiled.

"What are you doing?" He asked and I ignored him, imagining the look on his face as he turned into a ferret. His nose shrinking and whiskers protruding from his pale cheeks. Sterner, he asked me again.

Snapping open my eyes, I glared. "I'm trying to burn the image of you as a rodent into my head."

"Don't." Malfoy briefly closed his eyes and began muttering about his father again. I crossed my arms across my chest.

"You're really going to run to Daddy for help? You were going to attack Potter from behind. You deserve everything you get."

"He insulted my Mother, Weasley."

"You insulted _mine_ ," I growled.

There was little he could say back. Instead, he sat there for several moments brooding about Potter. I guessed he'd resorted to internal dialogue.

As I examined Snape's desk, I ran a hand over the tall jars of dried lizards and toads. One beside it was stuffed with decaying flowers, half of which were faint lilac dust at the bottom.

"How do I know you haven't jinxed my things?" Malfoy asked.

Narrowing my eyes, I lifted them from the desk. He was staring at the bag I continued to grip ."Why would I want to do that?"

"Like you said. I insulted your mother."

"My brother insulted yours."

"Exactly." His eyes became slits, hounding their attention on me fully, trying to make me open like a book. "You wait until the timing is right to unleash revenge. You wouldn't have mentioned it if it weren't bothering you."

Huffing, I nearly threw his bag at him. "You make me sound like I'm always scheming. If I truly did that, you'd always be up shit creak without a paddle."

We looked at in each in silence; him testing the waters for predators and me watching from the riverbank. My stomach rumbled loudly. I swear I could smell carrot soup and toasted bread waiting for me.

"I can't be playing eyeball tennis with you all day, Malfoy." I told him and placed his possessions down carefully on the floor in front of his chair.

Stepping back, I began chewing the inside of my cheek. Snape would be back soon, hopefully with detention slips and no point deductions. I should be grateful that we wouldn't lose as many points as we would if a Gryffindor, or Ravenclaw Head was telling us off.

"Hope you're not expecting me to say thank–" Malfoy started, reaching for his wand. His fingers barely touched the objects inside of his bag and suddenly he was screeching. Flinging the bag across the room, the contents fell out and instead of books it was worms.

They all began crawling manically towards Malfoy, climbing up the chair legs and his shoes. His hair was a mess again as he scrambled to stand up, getting as far from the creatures as possible.

"You insolent bitch!" he seethed, rubbing his hands up and down his arms.

I crossed my arms and stormed towards the door. "Insult my family again, Dragon-Breath, and it won't just your books I'll turn into worms."

"Weasley!" he shouted. "Get rid of them!"

"In your _prettiest_ dreams, Dragon-Dick!"

* * *

Upon reentering the hall, my gaze landed on my older brothers. I was still burning with fury at Malfoy's comments about Mum. A humorous distraction was what I needed.

"What are you planning?" I greeted my brothers. Taking the seat beside George, opposite Fred and Lee Jordan. Their whispers ceased and suddenly; their lunch was extremely interesting. I asked again.

Fred bit into his sandwich. "Why should we tell you?"

"Because I've just turned Malfoy's books into ooey-gooey Earthworms."

"Good one," Lee said, we shared a nod of understanding.

George didn't laugh, he looked derided. "Was he talking about the article?"

"Well, it was Goyle and Crabbe as well, but I'm patient."

"Leave it to us," Fred rubbed his hands together devilishly. "We've got some products to test with."

Boils, jelly-legs or a dancing hex. Laughing at the thought, I said: "oh, tell me before you do it. I'd love to be an eye-witness." Luckily, the walking ogres were on the other side of the hall. Daphne, Flora and Theodore were also sat at the nearly vacant Slytherin table. "By the way," I added. "With all the stuff that happened at the cup; the money, the betting, Ludo Bagman, I just wanted to know if that's what you three are scheming away at."

A dark look came over the twin's face. George and Fred shared an angry look with Lee. I didn't have to ask what happened.

"He stole the money, didn't he?"

Nodding slowly, George clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Re-living that night and all the disasters that came with it. "It was Leprechaun gold," he said. " _Bloody_ Leprechaun gold, Mia."

"Oh, you two..." was all I could muster. Bullying them for their pranks and plotting was what I loved, but still I was well-aware how much even one galleon would've meant to them. Ludo Bagman was thieving, cowardly fool and he would pay. "Have you sent him letters? Maybe it was a mistake." I doubted it. "You can't take this to the Ministry because it's illegal but... there must be a way of organising a meeting with him."

"Yeah. We sent him two in the last few days but haven't heard a thing. We were planning on writing something a little more..."

"Persuasive," Fred finished cynically. "In fact we were hoping to jot down a few of your insults if he carried on ignoring us. Either you or Ginny would do. I mean you were going to get some of that money, too. We know you need a wand."

Shrugging, I took another carrot from my brother's plate. "So, that parchment is the letter? Can I read it?"

Lee Jordan's hand went straight to his robe pocket. His eyes went wide as he swallowed, looking perturbed at my attention. Maybe he still wasn't over the crush he had on me in my second year. He was a sweet boy and it was always an innocent crush.

"You know I'm excellent at keeping secrets," I pushed, picking a carrot stick up off of George's plate. "You'd tell me." Looking at Jordan fully, I asked, "wouldn't you, Lee?"

Flustered, he stop mid-chew and glanced between the twins. "O-Of course I would," he said.

Fred derided. "No, you won't. Emelia stop manipulating him."

Taking offence, I spluttered, "how dare you! When have I _ever_ twisted my words to get what I want?"

"A day hasn't gone by–"

"Honestly, it's everyday," George nodded. A smile crawled onto my face and soon they were shaking their heads with defeat. I could be _slightly_ manipulative, but I was still their little sister.

"Go on," I nudged. "I won't tell Ron either. I promise."

"Good. He'll steal the idea and then we'll just have to murder him."

Lee Jordan took out a piece of parchment and we all looked at it. As I read the list, it appeared to be one for shopping: rent (97ʛ),shipping (75ʛ), planning permission (134 sickles). At the top, the limit was 1000ʛ and that was the winnings from the Trizard Tournament.

It dawned on me what my family were planning to do. The list was written in scratchy writing (Fred's) and looked fairly new, but by how well it was listed, I guessed it was the third draft of their financial plans.

There was a muggle saying: red sky and night, Shepherd's delight. Red sky in the morning; Shepherd's warning. Right now, my morning was bright red.

"You are joking, aren't you?" I asked slowly, not warranting for the answer but beginning gently.

"People die in this, Fred!" I crumpled up the paper, casting it down the table in disgust. "George, what if you died? What would happen to the family?"

They whined like children. "Eternal glory, Mia! And we'd be able to start our business!"

"Your life is worth more than 1000 galleons! The pair of you have less brain cells than a piece of buttered toast. Wait until I tell Mum what you're doing."

"You promised you wouldn't say a word."

"You'd break a promise? You snakey little–"

"Fine! I won't tell Mum, but please don't enter this tournament." I begged. Never would I tell Mum what they were doing unless it meant complete, laughable enjoyment. However, this was pushing the boundaries. "There are other ways to get the prize money."

"What other ways? Drop out and start working? We won't have enough saved until we're thirty odd."

"Thirty and alive is better than, 'oh today would be Fred's 30th birthday'," scorning, I stood up and left my half-eaten carrot. "If I see the pair of you putting your names into that Goblet, I'll skin you alive."

About to storm out, another thought hit me. "Did you say Ron was going to steal your idea?" They both didn't reply, knowing I was already furious. Enough said, I flicked my red-hair hastily over my shoulder and went in search of my twin.

* * *

 **BohemianBadger:** hello again! you're right Winky was a mistake, my HP knowledge is shambles. I can't wait to write some Quidditch training scenes and build on Emelia's relationships with other Slytherin members. Thank you for your lovely reviews! x

 **DramionexDreams:** thank you for the review, darling! i love the books, theres just so much detail on the fictional universe! x

* * *

 _please review, it helps me improve and  
makes your reading experiences better! x_


	5. This Unforgivable World

_"There is no dignity  
_ _quite so impressive,  
_ _and no independence  
_ _quite so important,  
_ _as living within your means."_

― Calvin Coolidge

* * *

 **Five: This Unforgivable World**

* * *

The moon was a piece of celestial bone. It hung off the neck of the universe and astronomy was the closest I could get to it.

On the top floor of the astronomy tower, we sat in Professor Sinistra's class. It was our first lesson of the day: astronomical theory. As the classroom was particularly large, it was only Slytherins. Therefore the atmosphere was benign as we all labelled our star charts.

A peaceful setting was what I needed. Having found Ron and asked him about the tournament, I discovered that half of my siblings were as thick as they were ginger. Ron craved glory and a chance to prove himself, I knew it was because he lived in Potter's shadow. Excessively risking his life for a slither of Potter's name would not get him anywhere.

Ron got defensive when I asked him if he felt overshadowed by Harry. Still, I wouldn't send a letter to Mum about it unless Ronald actually put his name forward. She'd tear down stone-walls to take his name back.

Sinistra's room was circular with a dome ceiling. Just like the Great Hall, it was bewitched and mirrored the current state of the stars. My favourite were the practical sessions. At midnight when Slytherin ascended from the dungeons, we walked in the moonlight together.

"When's the first Quidditch game?" Theodore asked me quietly. Looking up from my labelling of _Leo Minor_ , I grinned.

"Why? Thinking of joining the team, Nott?"

"Hardly," he scoffed. "I have to ask you to open my ink pots, for Salazar's sake."

Grinning, I said: "I was thinking that. The first game hasn't been announced yet. Flint'll let us know, but with the tournament going on I can't say."

I lapsed into silence, thinking hard about Quidditch try-outs. Your place on the team was every-changing. Every year you were under surveillance by the Captain and if you screwed up during trials, you'd be out.

Theodore's voice caught my attention. "Blaise was thinking about trying for Beater."

I shot him a look of disbelief. "How do you know?"

"We, uh, talk."

" _Talk_? Theo, he's using you. Do you have no self-control?"

"I do!" he said a little too loudly. Sinistra turned around, mid-chalked diagram of Orion's Belt. She shot us a pointed look and I put my head down. "I do. We just understand each other."

"In what way? The male body?"

"No," he huffed, rolling his eyes. "He's scrutinised by his family constantly. My father and mother are disappointed in me. We understand each other."

"Shared trauma, I see," I deadpanned, not fully getting what he meant.

"Oh, come off it. You're not completely emotionless." There was a heartbeat of silence. I scratched several more constellations into the chart, digging in with the nib of my quill. Ink spotted some words in an ugly fashion. "Anyway," Nott continued. "Blaise _and_ Peregrine Derrick are hoping to join the team."

"I always thought Derrick wanted to be a Chaser."

"He did, he's just desperate," Theo shrugged. "I doubt you'll get kicked out, anyway."

Chasers were a trio, just like my twin, I had my own last year. Flint and Cassius Warrington were Slytherin Chasers. Cassius was in fourth year as well, his head was far too big for his shoulders, but he was fast and that's all that mattered to me.

Marcus Flint was also my Captain, not school-smart, but tactically he did well. In my third year, we had a spiteful relationship as I'd overthrown Lucian Boyle. The prat deserved it; he couldn't navigate himself out of a corridor.

Graham Montague was our only Beater at the moment. A cruel, snide-ridden Slytherin who I detested. His insults were always bitter and after I caught him entering the girl's changing room, I'd sworn to hex him if he tried it ever again.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." I drawled, dripping my quill into the ink pot. "Derrick and Montague would get along if their testosterone and desire for alpha-male didn't get in the way."

"They just need to channel all of that gorilla energy into the bats."

"That being said if they even let him on the team."

"Getting on the team is easy even if you're half-decent."

I shot him testy look and he finally clocked onto what I was thinking. "The shit I went through to even be allowed onto the field..." I muttered.

"Yeah, that was pretty cruel." Shivers ran up my spine. Warrington and Montague had jinxed my lips shut in the changing room and then snapped my broom in half. It was terrifying. Having your mouth clamped up, your teeth clenched together and screaming to come undone wasn't even one of the worst experiences in third year.

"Even with the school's spare clean sweeps I made it."

Theodore could only offer an uncomfortable grimace. Slytherins won the cup last year, crushing Hufflepuff in the final. The overwhelming joy I felt after scoring was what I craved again this year. "Who hosts try-outs for Quidditch captains?"

"No-one. You get a letter from Dumbledore and Snape."

Theo scribbled down ' _Sagittarius_ '. "Do you want to be one?"

Charlie had been Quidditch captain. One of the best Gryffindor had ever seen apparently. He was always on our team when we played Quidditch at home.

"No," I said. "I wouldn't want to be Captain."

"You'd rather be bossed about?"

"God, no." Glancing at Malfoy, the Slytherin Seeker. He wanted to be Captain, he adored being in control. "I'll do what I want regardless."

Theo chewed on the end of his quill, looking away. "I'm going to watch try-outs I think."

"You're gonna support me this year?" Gently teasing, I waved my pen in front of him.

"I did last year, didn't I?"

"Not as vocally as I wanted. I suppose you did, in your own way."

"Would you want me chanting your name?" he asked, his gaze far-off, as if he could see the pitch through all the wood and walls of the castle.

Shaking my head, I knew I was genuine. "No, I wouldn't."

"Why?"

"I'm a Weasley, remember? Blood-traitor vermin," I muttered distastefully.

"Can't deny your siblings are always running around the castle like a swarm of mice." My eyes snapped to his face, rippling with annoyance. His dark brown ones met mine and he just snickered. Slytherins rarely apologised. They definitely did not when it came to truth.

"Think I might lob a quaffle at you during try-outs," I huffed, he flicked my nose with the feather of his quill.

"What time are they?"

"6am." We shared a look and his face lost all enthusiasm. With a click of his tongue, he said: "I'll ask how it went at breakfast."

When the bell rang, we all set off for the North Tower. Clambering up a tightly spiralled staircase, we merged with the Gryffindors and climbed up the silver stepladder to Professor Trelawney's hovel.

Ron was in front of me. He fell behind Potter and Granger, sporting a wry look.

"Mad at me still?" he nudged as we walking along the landing.

"When am I not?" I rolled my eyes and entered the room. Bitter perfume hit my face as well as the heat from the fireplace.

The room was layered with tables on raised platforms. Once again, the curtains were closed and the only sources of light were from the hanging lanterns. I took a spare chair at the table draped in red shawls and blankets.

Beside Daphne, I sank into the cotton chair.

"Good day," Trelawney said mystically, appearing behind Ron's table.

Her appearance never changed, she was a thin woman with enormous glasses. I thought she looked like Errol, whose eyes were so large he looked like he was in a constant state of panic.

Trelawney reached across the table, placing a hand on Potter's shoulder. Her beaded necklaces jingled against the crystal ball.

"You are preoccupied, my dear," she said to Potter. "My inner eye sees past your brave face to the troubled soul within."

"Of course..." Daphne sizzled, shoving her head into her hands. "To think I actually missed Divination; when it wasn't a pandering funeral-fest for Potter."

Snorting, I looked back at Potter. Even he was bored, his eyes drooped behind his circular glasses. Ron's were closed, his mouth open to begin snoring.

"My dears, it is time for us to consider the stars," she said. I straightened up slightly. "The movements of the planets and the mysterious portents they reveal only to those who understand the steps of the celestial dance. Human destiny may be deciphered by the planetary rays, which intermingle..."

"Bloody ludicrous waffle..." I muttered. Trelawney didn't rely on fact, she was an interpreter of the stars which we were forced to accept as the truth.

After Trelawney analysed Potter, we were given explicit solar charts. We had to label our moments of birth.

"According to Sagittarius, my ruling planet is Jupiter. Uh, apparently it means I am optimistic and have a great sense of humour."

Theo craned at her book. "It also says they're big-headed."

"We can overlook that part."

"I can't overlook it," I shrugged at her. "Your head is too big. I'll need a step-ladder."

Daphne pointed the nib of her quill at me, dripping ink onto the cloth. "Watch it."

"You watch it," I snapped. "I put worms in Malfoy's bag yesterday."

"That was you?" Theo gasped. "He was picking them out in the dormitory until three this morning. I should've know it was you."

"Do I give myself away?"

"It's very, uh..." Tilting his head, he waved his quill around and then looked at her with a grin. "Weasley of you."

Daphne hummed. "I don't think so. I think it's very _Emelia_ of her."

Warmth spread through my fingertips. I shot her a grateful smile and continued analysing my head-planet of Neptune.

Most unfortunately, Tralawney set us more homework than I'd hoped for. Ron thought asking to see Lavender Brown's Uranus was hilariously witty.

"Miserable old bat," said Ron bitterly as we walked to Potions.

"She's not miserable. You're just vulgar," I hissed, rattling the parchment.

We entered Potions bickering.

* * *

"Snape is in a terrible mood," I groaned, slumping my shoulders in defeat. "I mean my Potions skill are terrible as it is, but I didn't think he'd take points off me."

Daphne and Theodore walked beside me up to Defense Against the Dark Arts. They were both brilliant at the subject. Daphne's father was an alchemist so she always seemed infinitely better even when chopping up lacewing flies.

"You turned the horned-toad pink, Emelia," she snorted. "When it jumped on Longbottom – his face! I could've died trying to hold in my laughter."

"Snape didn't tell me where I went wrong! How am I meant to know?"

Theodore grinned widely. "You added fermented snail shells as well as the snails."

"Oh," I said. "Now I get why my toad didn't fall asleep."

"At least he didn't die."

Pushing open the heavy oak door, I glanced behind me. "Probably would've been for the best if it did. Slytherin is dangerously close to being third."

Already inside was Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle. Two were sat down, heavily debating whether dinner would be Beef Wellington or Hog's Pudding.

The room hadn't changed much since Professor Lupin's departure. Ron had been involved in the great werewolf scandal that, for once, the entire school did not know about. Chasing Ron through the castle, begging to know why he had to follow Potter to the Whomping Willow was a dramatic affair. One of the trio jinxed me and somehow I'd found my way back to Slytherin Common Room in a dazed state, not remembering a thing.

Only flashes came back and I hated not knowing who had cast the spell.

Peering out of one of the tall, glass window, I saw Hagrid's Hut. Smoke billowed from the Chimney in heaping mounds of grey. Candles flickered in the window, it looked rather cosy nestled against the woods.

"Open the window, I'll give you a closer look," Malfoy said snidely. He was annoyed I'd lost the House five points.

"Don't even try it, Measle," I snapped.

Sybil squealed behind us, her face wide with horror. Her arm was outstretched, pointing at the table in front of the class. I looked closer at the display of magical creatures, noticing the tank full of gillyweed.

Lake pixies weaved between the strands. As thin, murky creatures, their long fingers clutched the plants. Their glowing green eyes stared back at me. In great swarms, they collected moonlight and shone like lanterns beneath the water. For now, they were dark little phantoms.

Malfoy squirmed next to me and stepped away from a tall cylinder. It was full of worms, gnawing at a block of wood. They weren't earth-worms, but Malfoy was panicked by the sight of a grey owl after dealing with Buckbeak last year.

"Bringing back painful memories, Malfoy?" I smirked. The worms squelched against each other, even my ears cringed at the noise. He crossed his arms and huffed.

"How did you turn the books into worms? I thought your wand didn't work."

I shrugged. "It _barely_ works. Must hate you as much as I do."

Scoffing, he glanced away from the jar of fireflies. "Insulting your family has it perks, I suppose."

"Is that something to boast about?" I asked coolly, moving my hand into an open tank. Inside was a lone Amblypygi, a cave-spider whose venom was particularly useful in cleaning open wounds. Perhaps Moody had kidnapped this particular one from Madam Pomfrey.

Manoeuvring my hand so the long-limbed creature could crawl over a larger space, I watched the pincers flex. Tiny hairs on the legs gripped my skin, making it tickle.

"Careful, Dragon-Breath, it might _bite_ you," I said menacingly, pushing the creature towards his face. As I did with Sybil, I enjoyed the shock and fear on their faces. Malfoy let out an uncomfortable yelp and backed off.

"Oh, it's disgusting Emelia. Put it away," she begged, sitting right at the back.

"It's just lonely," I said.

Rattling away as I ran a finger down the spider's back, she heaved. "It could be dying and wearing a sign that says 'will dance for food' and I wouldn't care."

Soon we heard Moody's clunking footsteps coming towards the room, and he entered with his usual dishevelled and ghastly appearance. I glanced at his clawed foot as it peered from beneath his over-coat.

"You can put those away," he growled at Theodore, stumping towards his desk, "those books. You won't need them."

Theodore put them away and watched our professor expectedly.

Moody's swivelling eyeball met me first, nearly taking the breath from my lungs. "You a Weasley?"

"Uh, yes," I said quickly. "Emelia Weasley. It's nice to meet you, my father talked highly of your work as an Auror."

He hobbled towards the blackboard, his face turned away but I could feel his eye on me. "Your father did me a lot of good. Great man. Got me out of a spot of bother a couple weeks ago."

"Oh, yes. What happened?"

"You going to run to the Daily Prophet. Pay a pretty penny for good gossip, don't they?"

Flustered, I nearly dropped the spider. "O-Of course not, sir. Just curious about my father's work."

"Group of thieves. Muggle lads who wanted a few relics I keep from the past," Moody muttered begrudgingly, tensing his shoulders. "Took care of them well and proper he did."

"Oh, that's good," I replied quietly and looked down at the creature in my hands. When I looked up, I was starring into the marred face of Moody. Up close, I could see his ghastly skin and how it was stretched tightly across his bones. He looked thin and plump at the same time.

"You enjoying your company?" he asked.

Bashfully nodding, I managed a smile. "Yeah, I think she's beautiful."

"She is a lovely specimen. We'll be having a little fun today." Offering his hand to take her back, I excitedly took a seat near the front. Much to my displeasure, Malfoy was beside me as Gryffindors filled most of the other spaces. Either me or Longbottom.

"Don't copy my work," Malfoy said.

"In your dreams would I rely on you for a decent grade. A tea towel has more brain cells."

"Right then," Moody said after taking the register. The chalk was already writing out his name, in thick bold letters that must've mirrored his writing. Brutish in nature, I wondered what his notes would look like on my homework. He could give a compliment and I'd feel threatened.

It was unlikely he'd give many compliments.

"Alastor Moody," he said loudly. "Ex-auror, Ministry malcontent, and your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for the year. I'm here because Dumbledore asked me. End of story; goodbye; the end. Any questions?"

Silence ensued over the class. I could understand why the entire hall were petrified of his presence when he first arrived. Up close, it was sinister.

"Aren't you staying?" Ron blurted loudly. Moody's eyes spun sideways to stare at Ron. I turned and watched his apprehensive face and his reddened cheeks.

"You'll be Arthur Weasley's son, eh?" Moody asked. "One year and then back to my quiet retirement. It's a special favour."

He barked a harsh laugh and clapped his grubby hands together. My head tilted as I stared at him in a state of awe. Upfront and unforgiving, he was real and ignored the strangeness about his character.

"I'm not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you're in sixth year. You're not supposed to be old enough to deal with it till then. But Professor Dumbledore's got a higher opinion of your nerves, he reckons you can cope, and I say, the sooner you know what you're up against the better..."

"He's brilliant, isn't he?" I muttered, staring at the chalk as it hovered and awaited his orders.

Moody continued, his thick Irish accent echoing: "You need to be alert and watchful. You need to put that away, Miss Brown, when I'm talking."

Lavender jumped and blushed, putting her horoscope away quickly. She had it under her desk. Moody could see through solid wood as well as his own brain.

"So, do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by wizarding law?"

Most of the Slytherins put their hands up. They knew well what the worst spells were. I raised my hand, but Ron beat me to it.

"Er," said Ron carefully, "my dad told me about one... the, uh, Imperius Curse?"

"Ah, yes," said Moody. The chalk began scribbling it down madly. "You father would know that one. Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble at one time, the Imprerius Curse?"

It wasn't a question. I huffed, wishing I'd been the one to tell Moody.

The professor heavily limped to the glass boxes on the table. Inside, the Amblypygi scuttled about as Moody's grubby hand reached in to catch it.

" _Engorgio_ ," he enchanted and the spider grew. I bet Ron was having a breakdown. " _Imperio_."

Leaping from Moody's hand on a fine thread of silk, the spider swung through the air and landed on Moody's desk. At such a size, it stretched its legs and did a back flip and then began tap dancing.

Sharing a look with Theodore, I began giggling. Moody performing an unforgivable curse saved my curiosity. Dad had briefly discussed the curses at home and to my siblings' disappointment, he never performed them. Oh, how wonderful it would've been to see Percy tap dancing on the kitchen table.

Moody's articulation with the unforgivable shone through his wand work. Fluid was his hand as he made the spider hop onto Seamus Finnigan's desk and then onto Ron's. The class burst into laughter.

The spider was flung into Malfoy's face moments later. I leaned away from him as he lashed out, not wanting to hurt the creature, but panicking regardless.

"Think it's funny, do you?" Moody growled. "You'd like it, would you? What should I have her do next? Make her jump out the window?"

The class fell silent as the spider hit the glass window. It curled into itself, fighting Moody's curse.

"Drown herself?" its body was lowered above the tank with the lake pixies in. The spider squealed, a sound so quiet, but full of fear. "Total control. I could make it jump down one of your throats. Years back, there were a lot of witches and wizards being controlled by the Imperius Imperius Curse can be fought, and I'll be teaching you how, but it takes real strength of characters, and not everyone's got it. Better avoid being hit with it if you can. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he barked, making me jump.

Moody turned towards another student, Neville Longbottom. The boy was teased relentlessly by Slytherin for being quiet. It wasn't a reason to be bullied, if he were as insufferable as Pansy, I'd understand.

"Longbottom, isn't it?" Moody asked. "You know another one? Another illegal curse?"

"There's one – the Cruciatus Curse," he answered distantly. Moody's face was intent, tilted downwards at the student. For once, his magical eye was pinned on Neville.

Moody lowered the spider onto Neville's desk, and raised his wand, " _Crucio_!"

Contorting, the spider began to bend and wriggle. It caved its back in, releasing a minute screech that made my ears sting. Unable to comprehend the agony of it, I snapped my eyes to Neville. With clenched fists and his skin as white as a sheet, he looked ready to faint.

The spider rolled onto its back.

"Professor, please!" I cried.

Hermione's shrill voice echoed behind me. "Stop it!"

Moody lowered his wand quickly and the spider relaxed. It twitched, slowly moving towards Neville's open pencil case.

"Pain," said Moody, his voice strangled. "You don't need thumbscrews or knives to torture someone if you can perfume the Cruciatus Curse... Weasley?"

Tense and full of confused reluctance, I glared at him.

"We began with a Weasley, let's end with one. The final curse, if you please?" he stomped towards my desk, one magical eye on the boy behind me. Potter.

"You're going to kill it," I said bluntly.

The spider flew out of Longbottom's case and over my head. It landed on the desk behind me, in front of Hermione Granger. Her hand was up. "The brutality of this world is something lost to you all," said Moody. "Are you saying you don't know the curse?"

"I know it," I hissed. "I'm just not going to help you."

Beyond Moody, Daphne widened her eyes and looked between me and the professor. She was begging me not to lash out so we didn't lose anymore points. I clenched my jaw and looked up at the Professor.

With a grunt, Moody turned to Granger. "You?"

"Avada Kedavra," she whispered. Swivelling in my seat, I looked at the spider and watched.

Some of the class were turned away, but the majority watched the animal.

"Ah," said Moody, a sinister grimace twisting his mouth. "Yes, the Killing Curse."

Moody raised his wand, and I felt my heart beating faster. It pumped in my ears, drowning out the silence of the classroom.

" _Avada Kadavra_!" Moody roared.

Squinting, the blinding green light flashed through the classroom. There was a rushing sound and energy soared from Moody's wand – instantaneously the spider rolled over, his body frozen in death.

Moody swept the dead spider onto the floor, behind Malfoy's chair. Even he was disturbed.

"Not nice," Moody said calmly. "Not pleasant. And there's no counter curse. One only person known to survive it and he's sitting right in this room."

Harry's face went bright red, he looked up from the desk. Clearly uncomfortable by all the attention, he could only stare at the blackboard. Beneath his fringe, I looked quickly at the scar and turned away from him.

Disgust bubbled through me for the entire lesson. I didn't answer another question from our professor and simply took notes.

"Now... those three curses – Avada Kedavra, Imperius, and Cruciatus – are known as the Unforgivable Curse. The use of any one of them on a fellow human being is enough to earn a life sentence in Azkaban. That's what you're up against. That's what I've got to teach you to fight..."

When the bell rang, the chatter was quiet. Moody left the classroom, clambering up the steps to his office.

"Did you see it twitch, Malfoy?" Goyle asked. His heavy feet nearly trampled on the corpse.

I bent down and coaxed the body into my hands. It felt rough, the fibres on its skin were lifeless.

"Pretty grim," Malfoy said. "But he knows what he's doing, I'll give him that."

"Give him that?" I repeated, staring up at him. "He murdered–"

" _He_ was teaching us a lesson, Weasley. Not everything is black and white."

Scoffing, I brushed a finger over the spider's back. "It was barbaric."

His face was emotionless and steady as he looked down at my hands. "It did the job. Now, get rid of that thing."

As everyone filed out of the classroom, I waved Daphne off and she left for dinner with Theodore on her arm. Malfoy was right, I couldn't wait to learn how fight the curses.

For now, I irrationally detested Moody's brute nature. It was probably years of physical trauma built up by dark wizards.

Ron stood next to the desk, his hands shoved in his pockets. Potter waited at the doorway with Granger.

"Hey," I muttered to my brother.

He smiled. "Hey," he said. "You okay?"

Nodding, I walked up to the table covered in creature-tanks. I lowered the body of the Amblypygi back inside and gently pushed him inside the hovel it had built out of mud and leaves. Cobwebs caressed the entire tank.

Covered in white, the tank looked freshly lived in.

"At least you didn't leave it on his desk," Ron said, keeping his distance.

"I should've with a nice little note."

"Would've been obvious it was you then." He handed me my bag. I peeped a look at him.

"Are _you_ okay?"

We walked out of the classroom together with Potter beside us. "Why wouldn't I be?" Ron questioned.

Harry and Hermione's head poke round the side of my brother's body. Potter's face looked downfallen. "It was next level cruel..."

"Cruel," Hermione finished for him. "Are you alright, Harry?"

Unable to fully answer, he simply shrugged. I should've known the Killing Curse would effect him in a way different to me. I couldn't imagine my parents going through the agony the spider did.

"Emelia?" Hermione asked and I looked up at her. "Weren't you looking at it before?"

"Yeah. I didn't think he'd do that to the same one." Sighing admittedly, I rubbed my forehead. "I'm being stupid."

"I don't think you are. It was still a living creature." Hermione's eyes drifted away from my face. "Speaking of, can you ask your brothers how to get into the kitchens?"

I blinked, nearly missing the step. "Excuse me? You getting midnight munchies?"

"No. Godric! For the house-elves."

I groaned. "Hermione, I really think that–"

"Neville?" she interrupted, her eyes wide. We looked at the boy, stood leaning against the glass window. His eyes were glazed over as if he was in a distant world. I placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Longbottom?" I asked gently. "You alright?"

Neville looked up, blinking slowly. "What? Oh, hello, Emelia. Interesting – dinner – I mean lesson – what's for eating?"

Startled, I shared a looked with Ron. "Neville, are you–?"

"It's all right, sonny," a gruff voice said behind me. Moody was clunking down the stairway, his walking stick hitting the stone quickly. We watched him apprehensively. "Why don't you come up to my office? Come on... we can have a cup of tea.."

Dropping my hand, I stepped away from Neville. He looked frightened. Moody's magical eye swivelled between the five of us.

"You okay, Potter?"

"Yes," he replied quickly.

The eye quivered in its socket, hitting me and Ron. "You two, as well? Can be a bit alarming. Surely your Dad's told you before."

"Theory is a bit different to physical demonstrations," I said defiantly. "In this instance, I don't prefer the latter." Swallowing I turned away and began the descent to the hall.

"Sorry, Professor," Ron squeaked. "She likes to express herself."

* * *

 ** _Author's Notes:_**

 _ **nshaikh28** : thank you for taking the time to review. Glad you enjoy Emelia's character x_

 _ **Guest** : It did hurt writing that part but I'm all for foreshadowing! x_

 _ **BohemianBadger** : Thank you for the review, I love reading them! x_

* * *

 _please review, it helps me improve and  
_ _makes your reading experiences better! x_


	6. Trials and Tribulations

"...the human being to lack that second skin we call egoism has not yet been born, it lasts much longer than the other one, that bleeds so readily."

 _– blindess_

* * *

 **Six: Trials and Tribulations**

* * *

The Black Lake's depths stretched out for miles, an endless colouring of murky velvet against my window. Through the reeds which grew around the corners, a few egeria plants hovered in front of the glass, drifting softly against the current. Leaning against the window, there was no harsh coldness, but a soothing warmth. Intertwining the abyss, the sparkling of candlelight and the green–I closed my eyes. Deep beauty; hidden beauty was what I adored.

"Emelia? Emelia, are you awake?" Daphne asked from far away, from her bed. I pulled myself from slumber and moved my creaking neck. "How do you sleep like that?"

"Years of practice," my voice came dry. Noel purred on my bed, curled up in a snooze.

Daphne slumped into her pillow. "It's so early," she groaned.

"Why are you awake then?"

"Your snoring is appalling. Also, I wanted to tell you that you will make it today."

Looking back into the water, I swallowed, "course I will."

"Come off it." Shooting Daphne a confused glance, I watched her groggy face turn serious. "You've been stressing all night. Look at you, your spit is covering the window. It's nothing to be embarrassed about."

"I'm not _nervous_ ," I hissed.

She sat up, pushing her fringe out of her eyes. "Emelia," she waned. "You will make the team again. That's all I'm saying."

In the beats of silence, I could only muster a stiff nod.

With a deep exhale, she slumped into her goose-feather pillows. "Besides," she said quietly, " _you're_ the one who mentioned nerves." With that, she was gone from the world. Flora and Sybil weren't ones to wake up until you were physically bashing them on the head with a broomstick.

Our room had a grandfather clock next to the door. It was tall, like the one at the Burrow and all four of our faces were attached to handles. The tiny image of my face peered up at the sign above it: _sport_.

There was little point in showering before try-outs. I'd be coated in mud by the time it was over.

I quickly got changed, sparing a few seconds to peck a kiss on Noel's soft head. Purrs erupted and for a split moment, I wish I could curl back up with him and sleep until noon.

In the common room, three Quidditch-clad Slytherins were staring at the Notice Board. It was 6am and usually the players would get their gear on in the changing rooms. However, Marcus liked to make a point of his superiority on the Quidditch Trial Days.

Auditionees were petrified if they were faced with heavy-chested, stern faces.

"Not staring into a mirror, are we guys?" I asked, announcing my prescence. Marcus Flint turned around and shot me a grin. Miles Bletchley, last years Keeper, scoffed loudly and turned back to the board.

I'd always thought Marcus was an off-putting sight to behold. He was constantly sneering and his hair hadn't been washed properly in weeks, but he was a strategic Captain and that's what mattered. Even as a Weasley, he looked past it and had his eyes on the prize: the House Cup. I respected him for it.

As I neared, I saw they were analysing the poster tacked to the wall:

 **SLYTHERIN QUIDDITCH TRIALS**

 **6AM — SUNDAY 11TH SEPTEMBER**

 ** _(write name below )_**

"I think our appearance will make up for the diabolical list of tryouts we have," Malfoy said, eyeing the scribbled names. "At least mine would anyway."

Miles rejected this, commenting on the list, "Henry could be a good Seeker, but we can do better."

Malfoy's face turned sour. "I'm better."

Flint muttered, "...seen Grubb play before, he'd a good chaser but..."

"You have two of those already," I said proudly and hit his shoulder. "We're a team."

"Only because you're faster than you look." He shot me a sideways glance. "I've still got the scar on my eyebrow."

I gave him a look of disbelief, "if you didn't want a scar you could've asked Pomfrey to get rid of it."

"Scars make me look macho," he winked and rubbed the top of his face where a tiny white line could be seen poking above the hairline.

"I wasn't trying to hurt you," grinning, I looked back at the board. "I just wanted to make an impression."

"Yeah, I gathered. It was worth it in the end. You might be a _Weasle_ but you stood out. Besides, are you really so sure you'll still be on the team after today?"

Internally, my heart pumped faster. I was glad we weren't eating before, I'd surely throw up. Externally, I raised an eyebrow, "I'm my own number one fan."

Graham Montague joined us seconds later. He yawned loudly and unapologetically, "it should be illegal to be awake this early." As he neared, he scratched his greasy, brown hair.

"Close your mouth," I snapped. "You haven't even brushed your teeth."

He blew a stream of morning breath into my face and I hissed, hopping out of the way.

"Your boyfriend is on his way down," he continued. I spluttered, repeating the one word which could make me turn bright red. "Warrington."

Folding my arms, I rolled my eyes at him. "I don't think _stalking_ ends up with a date. It's all a front, he's trying to scare me into leaving the team on my accord."

Montague's slimy face lifted into a look of deep thought. I stared at it, waiting and dreading the answer. "Maybe," he finally said. "I wouldn't waste time with romance if I were him."

"You'd just push me off my broom and hope my neck breaks?"

His dark eyes turned icy and a grim smile crept onto his mouth. About to shoot a vile insult back at him, Flint interrupted the pair of us.

"Enough," he ordered. "We're a damn team. If the pair of you make it today, you will get along. I'm not a _fucking_ babysitter."

Moving to the front of our little group, I shrugged off the chill in my bones. I should've stretched before coming down, now my limbs ached. My gaze caught a familiar name. "Caitus Carrow. Flora's brother?"

"Cousin," Malfoy said. "First year."

Carrows were everywhere. If I had the balls, I'd have shot out a sly comment about them breeding like mice. As a Weasley, that commented would've made me a laughing stock.

"Bloody everywhere, the Carrows are," Miles derided.

Malfoy went to open his fat mouth, his eyes on me and dancing with sneaky joy. I shot him a sinister look. "Don't even think about it."

Flint scratched his stubble, frowning. He ignored us. "Not happening. I even wrote ' _no first years',_ can't they read?"

I shrugged, "they're just ambitious."

"I should be proud, but I'm just annoyed. Graham, you'll have to tell them to bugger off."

Built like a silverback gorilla, Montague could be as fierce-some as one if you riled him up enough. Not that I'd be the one to tell him that. The bastard would delight in such a fact.

When we left for the Quidditch Pitch, Cassius Warrington caught up with us. He complained about the time and lack of food we'd be running on. I ached to shut him up, telling him that the time was to test our willingness to be on the team. Without breakfast, we'd be fighting the nausea as well as each other. Flint could only tell Warrington to shut up.

The September sun rose early, casting a red hue over the grass. Heat basked my right cheek and my eyeball gently warmed in the blinding light. Still, the rest of my body was unable to control the chill from Autumn wind.

We passed a few Slytherins who were walking down to watch the try-outs. They were giggling between themselves, wrapping up in scarves and thick jumpers. Catching sight of the geared up team members, they burst into fresh whispers.

Instantly, the entire team began strutting. I resisted the temptation to laugh at them all.

"Right, you lot," Flint grunted as soon as we neared the entrance to the stands. He opened the fabric flap and we entered the wooden structure. To our left were the changing rooms which branched off depending on gender. "Changing rooms. Dump your shit, say hello to the newbies and meet here in five."

I fell behind purposely, watching Montague and Warrington as they walked into the male area. Nervousness crept into my throat as I recalled my third year.

Slipping towards the female changing rooms, I entered to the sound of gentle chatter. There were several second years, third years and one sixth year named Marian Jules. I ignored them all and turned back to the entryway of the room.

" _Protego_ ," I enchanted. A splutter came from the end of my wand, but the spell worked regardless.

The few girls stared at me, confusion written on their faces. "Warrington is a perv," I shrugged.

As I cleaned my broomstick down, focusing on the handle and tail, Marian approached with the Nimbus Two-Thousand and Four.

"Think I have a chance of getting on the team?" she snidely enquired.

I barely shot a glance. "Doubt it."

"I think I do. I'm trying out for Chaser you see." she continued, flicking her curly blonde hair behind her shoulder. "Montague and I fancy each other. He'd prefer me beside him on the field..." her thick Geordie accent rabbled on for several minutes, earning laughs from the other girls.

Finished cleaning, I finally got to my feet. "Am I a counsellor?" I snapped, silencing her great speech. "I really do not give a toss if you think you're better than me or not. You either prove it or you leave here with your tail between your legs like a kicked dog."

"I'd kick you like a dog," she hissed.

I laughed. "You'd kick a dog? What kind of sick-minded cow are you?"

Leaning forwards so her curled lip was inches from my face, she said, "I'm going to kick you off the team, Weasley."

I moved towards her, "I'd like to see you try." With that, I left the changing area and headed for the stadium. As I neared the door, I heard booming laughter followed by voices quipped with cruelty.

Coming to a stop, I hovered against the fabric wall. Breathing shallow, I waited and listened.

"She's an embarrassment to the team. Bloody brute," someone said. Warrington. I blinked, looking at the wall as if I could see through it. "There'll be hell to pay if we have a Weasley on the team again."

Montague's voice appeared seconds later, "if Flint wasn't so focused on the cup he'd be able to see the vermin he's allowing onto our pitch."

"Lucian Boyle has a good chance of overthrowing her place as Chaser." With hmph's of agreement, their voices began moving away. "You take her face wards and I'll take the right, if we scare her, she'll drop the quaffle and then Flint'll have to get rid of her."

Waiting for them to make it halfway across the pitch, I straightened with ice filling my body. Hearing the truth was quite different to my own thoughts.

"I'll show you..." my voice hissed as I brushed down my uniform and gripped my broomstick tightly. "I'll show all of you."

Hooking a leg over my broom, I flew straight up. As fast as I could, I waited for the cold to bite my cheeks and freeze the tips of my ears. Wind brushed my hair, threatening to pull the curls from my ponytail.

From up above, I could see the Black Lake and on it sat the giant ship. Its sails were down, but I could faintly see black figures wandering around the deck.

The carriage was no where to be seen on the Hogwarts grounds, so I assumed that it was their only mode of transport and took it with them wherever they travelled. Soon, it would be time for the introduction to the other schools and my annoying curiosity would be solved.

Gracefully flying back down, I took my place on the pitch. Just like last year, we were split into our preferred Quidditch positions. I hovered with Peregrine Derrick, Lucian Boyle and Marian Jules.

Becoming slits, I watched Warrington with venomous thoughts tainting my mind. He flew in front of me casually, looping around like a fool.

"I'm watching every one of you!" Flint he shouted from the ground. "Get started. Burrows your first on the left! Kipper, on your right!"

Our Captain threw two Quaffles into the air. I immediately dove, catching the ball with one arm. Tightly rising, I missed Marian Jules' murderous flying by an inch.

I flew towards the goal posts, watching Burrows nervously flying between each one. Mistake. If his attention was divided into three, then the decision was completely mine.

Flying straight, I narrowed my body and streamlined through the air. His eyes widened, petrified by the unknown. Moments before I collided with his broom, I raised my arm and aimed for the middle hoop.

Burrows had little time to register me pulling my weight up and shooting the Quaffle in a straightwards motion. It whizzed through the air and through the goal. My heart leapt to my throat.

"Burrows!" Flint screeched. "Off the pitch! Pissing your pants isn't going to help you in a game!"

With a smile on my face, I flew towards the middle of the field. My racing heartbeat thundered over the cries of foul play from the stands. There was a group of third years calling Burrow's name. He left the stadium with his head bowed.

Sliding my gaze across the sitting area, I saw Parkinson with Crabbe and Goyle. She was waving madly at the middle of the field, her arms circled the air in a love heart shape.

"Oh, please," I sneered at Malfoy as he flew around the stadium, his chest puffed out and a grand grin on his snotty face.

To my delight, Peregrine Derrick was kicked out by the time point-analysis was over. He was startled by Jules growling at him and so he dropped the Quaffle. Before it hit the ground, I caught it and had Flint screaming Derrick's name down my ear.

"Dickhead Derrick! You're out!"

By the time half of the try-outs were kicked out, we were all sweating and soaked in mud. Jerrard Smith was still in the running for Keeper and Lucian Boyle had proven himself to be a good Chaser. With Henry Watts fighting to be Seeker, the competition made us all feel tense as we realised we were in the finale of it.

"Right," growled Flint, his eyes red with determination. "Mock game. You'll be split into two sides. Do what you can to stay in my good books. The overall score doesn't matter, whats matters is how well you play.

Weasley, Boyle, Malfoy. Join them lot on the left side. Blaise, Montague, Watts. Jules and Warrington you're on the right too! Get in your positions!"

As I wiped mud from my cheek, I saw Malfoy hitting Blaise on the shoulder. "Good luck, if you need to make sure you throw the first punch," he said lightly.

"You can't bet on it." Blaise looked away from Malfoy as he started towards his team. He looked weary, but with his stocky build and fierce temper there was no reason to doubt he'd beat well.

"I don't want a clean game. I want you to fight for this team," Flint said as we mounted our brooms.

As fifteen brooms rose. We were off. The whistle felt like a fly buzzing against my ears as I allowed Jules to grab the Quaffle. Blaise grunted nearby, smacking the Bludger towards me. I ducked.

Jules smacked the Bludger towards Warrington and I took the opportunity to whizz between the pair, using my palm to knock the ball sideways. Lucian Boyle was on my tail and caught it to my amazement.

I followed him down the field, narrowly missing Malfoy and Watts, head-to-head after the Snitch.

"Boyle!" I cried, darting in front. He lobbed it and I unhooked my leg, giving the Quaffle a kick towards the goal posts. Alishia Kipper cried out with anger, her fingers unable to reach it in time.

Shooting through the lowest goal, Boyle cheered and high-fived my outstretched hand. Turning, I watch Montague smack the Bludger and Blaise faltered, barely able to process all of the events.

I glanced at Malfoy, who was whizzing around a goal post as flat as a board. Behind him, Warrington had the Quaffle under his arm.

His face murderous, he tucked his body against his broom and beelined towards me. Confused by his anger, I looked at Montague, whose murderous eyes were honed on me as well. He swung the bat thrice in his hand.

Adrenaline coursed through my veins, glancing between Montague, Warrington and the Bludger that was meant for me.

Montague's arm turned and he beat the Bludger in my direction. It shot like a bullet and with Warrington heading straight for me, I was trapped.

Time stopped.

Releasing a tense breath from my lungs, I commanded the broomstick to falter. We fell through the air with gravity as our greatest ally.

"Weasley!" a voice shouted. "What, the fuck, are you playing at?"

Green blurred around me, reminding me of portkeys for a wild moment. When I was sure my plan had worked, I grappled for my broomstick and solidified my body, willing the magic within me to work. The Nimbus sprang to life, fighting my fall with its power.

I came to a sudden stop which rattled my heart against its rib-cage. The world stopped spinning. Breathing heavily, I stared at the grass that was feet from my body. It worked.

Looking up, I watched the finale of Montague's Bludger smacking Warrington across the jaw. He screamed in pain and dropped Quaffle.

Jules screeched, "You bitch!" speeding her way down the pitch. She wasn't quick enough. The Bludger was already coming to its rightful owner.

It fell into my lap and I held it to my stomach. Blood raced around my body, fighting for my place on the Slytherin team. I soared up, darting over Jules and Bletchley-

"What the hell are you doing, Weasley?" Warrington snapped, swerving in front of me. A dribble of blood leaked from his bottom lip and his eyebrows were deep-set with anger. "Are you trying to kick me off the team?"

I could only laugh obnoxiously, "please! That's exactly what you're doing to me. You and Montague want me gone."

"And that's a reason for stealing the quaffle and nearly knocking me off my broom?"

"I'm teaching you exactly what vermin Flint's allowing onto the pitch," my voice was laced with hatred. Hovering closer, I all but tucked the Quaffle tighter to my side. His hands flexed around the broom-handle.

"Do you enjoy eavesdropping, Weasley?" he asked.

"Takes a coward to talk behind someone's back. I should've known you would be one, Warrington." Rolling the muscles in my shoulders, I sneered like an animal taunting prey, and headed for the goal posts. If they saw me as animal, then an animal I would be.

Clouds covered the sun, easing my tense vision.

I propelled around the edge of the stadium, sensing Warrington and Jules in close pursuit. Their Nimbus Exalibur's were stronger than mine, emitting low hums when at their peak performance. It was like a growl. Bile rose to my throat.

I didn't have to be faster, I had to be agile.

Diving, I sharply banked left and locked eyes with Lucian, who was flying towards me. A strategic thinker.

I felt Flint's eyes on me as he flew around us all. Grinding my teeth together, I prayed to Salazar and purposely let the Quaffle go. Boyle's arm stretched out like a viper to prey and he tucked the ball to him, shooting out of sight. Jules cursed loudly above me, flying overhead as she struggled to change course.

Lucian scored. His cry of joy echoed through the grounds and Slytherin onlookers applauded.

Warrington streaked past Boyle, in possession of the Quaffle. I stilled, hovering in the air and calculated the path he would take. Jules circled around him, reminding me of a ferris wheel.

I leaned forwards; Boyle in pursuit of them from behind and closing in - I sped up, adrenaline flooring me, a thirst to rip Warrington apart, I nearly bore my teeth –-

A Bludger pelting out of nowhere, skimmed my nose; I veered off course and let out a cry. Montague's large form whirred after the Bludger, a string of foul words falling from his lips.

In the crucial moments I'd lost, Jules now had the Quaffle in her possession.

Accelerating from my stumble, I fixed my eyes on her and didn't falter when I rammed my side against hers. Knocked sideways, she lost her tight grip and I yanked the Quaffle out of her grasp.

Near the goal posts, Malfoy was a blur of black and green. His arm was outstretched, inches from the Snitch. I had to score and take down Warrington if it was the last thing I did.

Rising into the air, my eyes locked with Jules, who had flown around the Pitch and was out for blood. She looked murderous; her plan to smash her body against mine was as obvious as a naked house-elf.

A wry grin crept up my lips as the whir of another Nimbus Excalibur caught my ear. I held my back straight, blocking as much of the player behind me as possible. Jules bent lower, her chin nearly touching the handle.

"Warrington, no!" Pansy screeched nearby. Someone called for Jules, but the entire stadium turned into a blur of noises and whizzes.

Up close, Jules' face was aged with angry wrinkled. Her mousy hair was sticking out of the ponytail as odd angles and her eyes were flickering flames.

"Fuck you, Weasley!" she screamed.

Diving again, I heard the crunch of Jules and Warrington's bones above.

In a blunder of cries, hurrahs and curses, those noises were the most beautiful and enticing things to befell upon my ears. I threw the Quaffle past its Keeper and listened to Malfoy's shouts as he caught the Snitch moments later

* * *

Sundays were a lazy affair. After Quidditch trials, I left quickly and spent the rest of the day in the Library with _Astronomer's Weekly_ cracked open. In that relaxation, I found my hip was aching from the fierce body-bash with Jules.

Lee Jordan found me soon after by request of my older brothers. His itinerary was preparation for Ludo Bagman's forceful and insulting letter. After such a successful morning, I nearly skipped out of the Library at the chance to brew my evil thoughts aloud.

We headed for the Gryffindor Common Room together talking about the Slytherin Quidditch players.

"I really can't tell you," I said politely. "You're friends with the enemy."

"The enemy?" he grinned. " _Puh_ - _lease_ , I'm the commentator. I have no side."

"Everyone has a side."

"I'm middle ground."

Scratching my head, I didn't believe a word. "Even for a Slytherin?"

Raising a quizzical brow, he thought about it for a moment. We arrived in front of the Fat Lady and he said: "fairy lights." As we entered the warmth, Lee finally answered. "Well," he said. "You're a Weasley too."

"See? You have a side." I spotted two ginger drama queens in front of the fireplace, a long roll of parchment stretched out on the coffee table.

"Maybe it's just redheads," Lee said gently, his voice smooth like butter. I scoffed as words failed me. Only my gaze could follow him as he took his place on a leather chair.

Settling on the rug so I could enjoy the blazing heat of the fire, I discussed the best place to start the letter.

"I think we should start with... 'Dear Knobhead'," I put forward proudly. "Dear Knobhead, your deceitful, unapologetic ways are at an end. We have informed the Ministry of your-"

George raised a hand at me. "We can't say that, Mia."

Pouting, I blinked at him. "Why? He is one."

Fred's frown was serious. He used his hands animately, "yes, we know that. But we can't tell him we've involved the Ministry. He'll know it's a lie." I gave in, watching as they wrote Bagman's full name. George's handwriting was better than Fred's, I'll give him that.

Puzzling, Lee tested, "the toxic stench of your..."

"Oh!" I said, "we didn't think we could meet the human version of a sack of manure until we met you. The toxic stench of your... of your deceit..."

"Has forced us to take action..." George scribbled down.

Lee grinned widely. "Oh, that's good. That's good. We need disgusting metaphors to get out point across." The toothy smile spread onto his face caused my chest to become warm. I realised he was making me feel embarrassed.

Fred didn't notice. "I think we should put another insult in there."

"It'll be too childish, don't you think?" George murmured.

"Nah, if he wants to play games then we need to hit him with everything we're good at."

Picking my nails, I said: "if my dog had your face, I'd shave its arse and teach it to walk backwards."

George and Fred snorted but shook their head. "Too far. We've got to be slightly professional still. Uh, dickhead?"

"Bint."

"Maybe dosser."

"Muppet."

Lee's eyes lit up. Hitting the nail on the head, we used that word instead of a swear as it emphasised the childish nature of Bagman. Writing several more lines, divulging into the deceptive nature of Leprechaun gold, I discovered that the man had a history of gambling. It had begun with boxing when he was a teen. How Fred and George knew, I didn't care to ask.

"Oh, I'd go a few rounds with Bagman," I clenched.

Fred waved me off. "He's over six foot and you're half the size of Ron, despite being twins."

"I'd tear his kneecaps apart then," I grumbled.

Together, we insinuated violence if he continued to ignore the letters. _Legally_ , we couldn't claim he knew about the Leprechaun gold.

"You're a thief who..." I started.

"No that sounds like we're accusing him," George murmured, scratching out my suggestion. "We've got to be careful."

"You have to be forward. He's clearly aware-"

"Shut up," Fred hissed quickly. We all looked up at the Common Room and found Harry Potter watching us from the sofa. He blushed and put his head down, scribbling away hurriedly.

"Nosy git." Pulling a fresh ink pot out, I set it in front of George.

"By the way," I said as we left the Common Room together. "Now I've helped you, you need to help me." My eyes danced with mischief, to which my brothers looked overjoyed.

* * *

"Are you scared, Noel? Scared of the bid bad bully?" I cooed, brushing a hand over his relaxed side. With a gentle mew, he closed his eyes and began dozing. "No, I'm not either."

Sybil, munching on a colour-changing liquorice, turned to me. "Do you think he'll make it on the team?"

"Definitely not," Flora insisted. "According to Pansy, Flint was furious with him."

"Yeah. He fell off his broom, didn't he?" Daphne asked.

Nodding, I began hooking my laces back into my Quidditch boots; having cleaned and scrubbed the mud off. "Jules' was going way too fast. Neither of them had a chance."

"Shouldn't Cassius be angry at her then?" Flora asked.

"Should be. She was acting like a child, but they were both after _me_."

The world outside of our dormitory had a blueish tint as the moon shone down on the Lake. Silver shimmers peaked through the window, illuminating the underwater greenery.

My dormitory shared a bounty of magical sweets and cakes, nicking them from the dinner tables so we could have an evening of peace.

Flora held a chocolate frog in her hand, catching it with the other when it tried to escape. "Millie was saying that last year's team members played the best. Do you think?"

"I suppose. Montague was an evil bastard, as usual, he beat the Bludger like it was the head of an animal."

Daphne interrupted, "wait. Millie? _Millie_? You've been with Millicent Bullstrode _all_ day?"

Flora's cheeks went pink, she nearly dropped the frog. "Well I..."

Sybil groaned obnoxiously, "Flora! I thought you'd broken up?"

"I can't help it! She's just..."

Daphne stood up and ripped the remaining chocolate frog parcels off of Flora's lap. "A bitch," she hissed.

"You don't know her like I do."

"We know enough," I rolled my eyes. "You deserve better."

"And your disastrous love life is enough experience for you to tell me how to deal with mine?" Flora's mouth violently bit into the head of the frog. "Or should I say; non-existent one."

A packet of muffins hit my chest. Letting out an oomph, I fell back into my bed and stared up at the canopy.

"This bullying is too much for me," I dramatically cried.

"Boo hoo. Choke," Flora laughed. "I bet you can't eat one of those in one go."

Raising an eyebrow, I pushed myself into a sitting position and held the cakes in my hand. The girls watched me, with smiles of amusement.

I tore open the packet and pushed the entire muffin into my gob and began chewing. Not a drop of chocolate escaped and I swallowed it without complaint.

Flora stared at me in disbelief and began clapping. "You absolute barbarian." I picked up another one and threw it at her. She caught it with a single hand and gave me an expectant look.

"Eat it," I ordered.

"No."

With a grin, I leaned forwards. "You're saying you can't eaten a little muffin?" I teased. Flora shoved the cake between her teeth in a split second and nearly choked.

Sybil, horrified, started, "how, on Earth, do you-"

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" cried Daphne suddenly. I rolled backwards, laughing loudly. She shouted it again after we dared her to eat two muffins in one go. With chocolate around her teeth and mouth, we began crying with laughter.

Flora's laugh was more of a snort in my opinion. Once she got going, the giggles became oinks and she turned as pink as a pig.

"Aye, laddie. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" I shouted, covering one of my eyes. "I'm Mad Eye Moody, me wooden leg was chomped off by a shark! Me walking stick is carved from spine of the rotten rubies of Merlin! Argh!" Daphne howled with laughter, clutching her sides.

Flora Carrow threw a dark blanket at me and I shoved it over my head, peering out like a cockroach beneath a rock.

"There's only one boy who's ever survived!" I continued, hobbling forwards. "And he's sat in this room!"

Flora wailed dramatically, pretending to be Harry Potter. "Ooo Professor!" she cried, "let me kiss your arse professor! Want to see my broomstick professor?"

I stuck a hand out of the cape, twisting a finger into a hook. "THREE UNFORGIVABLE CURSES?" I cried. "Argh! In my day there were five hundred a forty two! I'm nine hundred years old! You cretins don't know a thing about death! When I was fourteen, if we died we just stood back up!"

Daphne wiped a tear from her cheek. "Oh, Salazar!" she snorted. "When he turned Malfoy into a ferret. I nearly combusted trying not to laugh."

Breathing heavily, I threw myself onto my bed and narrowly missed Noel's curled up body. "He had it coming," I said giggled.

"Sometimes striking someone in the back is the best way to go," Flora disagreed. "Gods, it was brilliant seeing how fast Moody's magic worked. Malfoy didn't even get chance to breathe."

Sybil whined, "oh, I wished I'd have seen it! Malfoy still turns bright red if you ask him about it."

"Maybe if he had some constant vigilance he wouldn't have been humiliated." We all began laughing again; spending the rest of the night happily gossiping in our little world away from the rest of it.

* * *

 **Comments:**

 _ **BohemianBadger** \- _it's okay! Thank you for reviewing again! I'm blessed with a loyal reader aaah! Glad you enjoyed it and saw Emelia's Slytherin side coming out its proving to be quite difficult merging a Weasley with the House to be honest ahaha x


End file.
